


Bound to You

by Mango_Lioncat



Series: MerHank/HumanConnor [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Breeding, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Praise Kink, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, G9 not until very end, King Hank, M/M, Marriage, Mermaid Hank, Mermaids, Praise Kink, References to Knotting, Scientist Connor, Transformation, Triplets, bad perkins, depictions of some violence at the end, i want to make you cry, it gets emotional, mermaid au, mermaid/human sex, nice Amanda, no one dies BUT IT GETS PRETTY CLOSE, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mango_Lioncat/pseuds/Mango_Lioncat
Summary: Scientist Connor, when studying the wildlife of a tropical island, makes a discovery.Mermaids.He makes a connection with their leader, a king. A big, strong, and very attractive merman that goes by the name of Hank. Feelings ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Wrote this originally on Twitter. So the paragraphs might be a little wonky it's because of that. You can find the beginning of that thread here: https://twitter.com/MLioncat/status/1157078690729037824 This story is completed I plan on updating it all here hopefully by the end of today.
> 
> My dear friend Evelyn over on Twitter is who finally prompted me to get this done and posted, so this fic being uploaded is dedicated to them for waiting so patiently for me to get this posted on AO3. Enjoy, Evie!!! :)

The sun filters through the trees and heavy leaves, slants of golden light as Connor makes his way through the vegetation. It’s another perfect day in paradise. He has his hat pulled over his face, and his notebook and pens held close. He’s hoping to find another species of that flowering plant to study, or maybe another glimpse of that colorful bird he saw the other day.

But something happens as he passes by where he knows a lagoon is. He can hear … laughing? But people don't live here..

Connor peers out through the fronds and tall grasses, peeking over to identify the source of the laughter.

And just about falls flat on his face.

Because MERMAIDS.

MERMAIDS, sitting on rocks jutting from the crystal clear turquoise waters, as if they aren't supposed to NOT EXIST

Connor nearly drops his sketchbook and pen, and claps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from crying out in shock.

The mermaids and mermen lounge on rocks, laughing in their beautiful voices, playing and splashing in the warm and tranquil water of the lagoon while Connor feverishly takes notes and does rough sketches in his book.

He listens to their language from afar, deathly quiet and terrified of scaring them away with his presence as he crouches behind fronds of green at the lagoons brim.

Then near one of the larger rocks closest to Connor, there's the sudden sound of water splashing aside as a merman crests the water surface no more than 10 feet from where Connor watches.

This merman is HUGE.

Muscles that swell with power as he lifts himself from the water. The creature manages to find grace despite his bulky tail as he takes place in the groove of the stone like it's a seat, or a throne, the harsh edges of the rock smoothed away from the salty ocean waves.

The other merpeople grow quiet for a moment, and Connor realizes its from the presence of this merman. He wonders if their quiet is from fear, awe, respect (maybe all three), but then the merman speaks in a low and rippling voice, and gives a very human chuckle.

The tension of the lagoon eases, and the merpeople go back to their frolicking in the peaceful waters.

Connor only has eyes for this merman -SO CLOSE!- and he knows that if he can shift a little to the left he might get a better view of his face.

The merman is strong, muscles rippling beneath the skin as he leans back, surveying the merpeople. But there's a softness to his muscles, showing a bit more in the stomach, and Connor's face warms as he stares at the slight bit of wiry and curled grey hairs along his abdomen.

This merman seems older than the others. While they seem to be in their youth, twenties or even so far as into their teenage years, this merman would be well into his forties by human standards. Perhaps even fifties.

Connor carefully shifts, watching with wide eyes behind his glasses as the merman turns and smiles at the occasional merperson that approaches him. One that appears to be a child brings him a beautiful conch shell, smiling and trilling at him for his attention. Perhaps it's the merman's daughter?

He smiles at her, takes the shell in his huge, tanned hands, saying something back to her. Then he brings the twisted end of the shell to his lips, and blows.

The shell splutters from the seawater lodged in it, and the child giggles. The merman makes a goofy face at her, then looks back at the shell.

The wind blows, tousles Connor's hair, and he thinks he can hear the chime of bells or the laughter of dolphins. Perhaps the whispering of the sea on his ears.

The merman blows again into the shell-

And the SOUND- 

A deep and low bellow, melodious and smooth erupts from it, the sound echoing from nearby cliff faces and the whispering of the trees.

It's a sound that should not be possible to come from such a small thing, and Connor finds himself believing there may in fact be something supernatural going on about this merman.

The child cries out in delight, and the other merpeople around murmur and laugh joyously from the sound.

Connor watches, and it begins to dawn on him as more children approach, some bringing more gifts of pretty shells and stones, or a small fish or octopus for the merman to eat while they play in the waters as the day passes by.

The whole time the merman stays on his rock, long silver hair drying in the ocean breeze as he watches. Interacting from time to time but watching from afar. His gorgeous, sparkling cerulean tail splashes idly in the lagoon waters, and Connor is reminded of lions, how the male stays to watch the children while the lionesses hunt and provide for the rest.

And that's what this one is doing.

Watching. Surveying.

Protecting.

Connor sketches as quietly as possible, trying to get every detail down in this merman. The arch of his back, every little scar from old battles won. The little nicks in his fins, the sparkle of his tail. His rough hands, the profile of his face.

What Connor /can't/ capture is the kindness in the merman's eyes.

At one point, while Connor is sketching out the details of the merman's tail, he huffs out a breath of irritation, then looks up.

He freezes.

The merman -who Connor has begun to think of as 'His Majesty'- is staring right at him.

Or perhaps it's just in his direction - but there's still an intense look of aggression in his eyes that are ice blue.

A rush of cold goes through Connor, and he doesn't move, doesn't take in as much of a breath of air in face of being seen by the merman.

The merpeople around have stilled, possibly sensing the attention of their protector, and they linger deeper in the water, on watch and attentive.

The kingly merman's lips turn up in what might be a snarl, or even a growl, and opens his mouth, releasing a deep and guttural:

"LEAVE!"

His massive tail SMACKS the water, sending a wave up that is far too big to be scientifically possible, droplets spraying everywhere. It causes the surface of the pool to shift and wave, the way a child in a tub might cause the water to go over the side.

Connor yelps in fear, and startled, scrambles back to narrowly avoid the tide of water that crests and hits his feet.

He breathes hard, but hurries to look back into the lagoon. But even in the span of a couple seconds, the kingly merman had smacked his tail again, and without so much as a sound, beckoned his people to the safety of the ocean.

Connor looks out at the shifting water of the once peaceful lagoon, trying hard to catch his breath.

He hopes for a while that the merpeople will return. But after a couple of hours, when the sun has begun to sink beyond the island cliffs, he knows they won't return - at least not tonight.

Later, when Connor lays in his tent, he wonders if what he saw was actually real.

And he would doubt he saw it, if not for his sketches that he looks at in the lamplight of the beautiful merman with the powerful voice and cerulean tail.


	2. Chapter 2

Connor returns to the lagoon early the next morning and remains there the entire day on the search for more of the mercreatures. But they don't return. Not so much of a ripple of a disturbance passes over the water. All Connor witnesses is the flash of scales from regular fish beneath the surface, but no sign at all of any merpeople.

But Connor isn't new when it comes to observation of different species in their native habitat. And he knows that if this is one of their usual spots, then they're sure to return after some time in the hopes that any danger has lost interest and moved on.

So he comes back the next day, and the day after that. No sign of them.

Connor is determined, but even he has his limits. So he decides at high noon one day to take a break, go and eat his lunch down at the beach. Then perhaps when he returns the merpeople might be there.

He walks languidly along the shore, the salt water tickling his toes, the ocean waves its very own heartbeat.

It's incredibly easy for Connor's mind to lose track of itself, and he finds such a thing occurring as he munches on whats left of his fresh mango, plucked from a tree that very afternoon. The bright orange juice drips from his fingers, and he tosses the core out to the ocean thoughtlessly while he licks his fingers clean, sucking on what's left-

Then nearly trips over a hulking creature just a handful of paces before him.

Connor has to squint against the bright tropical sunlight, and whatever is before him reflects the sun, but he sees the movement and hears the telltale slap of fins against water.

He figures it must be some kind of beached dolphin, or a large fish that got too close to shore during the low tide-

But then he hears a very human-like groan.

Connor's eyes widen, a gasp escaping him as he suddenly hurries forward, feet kicking up wet sand behind him. He runs along the waters edge and skids in place, staring in horror at what's before him.

/cw for mention of abdominal, superficial bleeding/

It's the merman, the one from before, who roared at him. He lies on his back, webbed hand pressed to his gut where red pulses from between his fingers.

"Oh-!" Connor gasps softly, and falls to his knees at the merman's side.

The creature snarls at him at first, lips turned up, revealing near-human teeth, were it not for the slightly sharpened points they come to.

Connor holds up his hands placatingly, "It's okay, I'm not going to harm you, I promise."

The merman growls, the sound coming low in it's throat, and it sends a tremor down Connor's spine.

He opens his palms, showing his lack of weapons or anything harmful.

Connor's hand shakes, but he reaches down, and touches the tanned arm of the merman.

The creature growls again, but it lacks the force it did, and he seems to resign himself to his fate as he leans back, letting his head fall against the sand.

His fins, which had flared out in alarm upon first seeing Connor, lose their fight, and rest limp along his body.

Carefully, Connor moves the merman's hands from his stomach, and assesses the wound.

/cw for lil bit of blood, nothing intense/

There's a cut, about half a foot long over the merman's stomach. Connor pulls his thin white shirt off his back, using it to wipe away the blood so he can better see how deep it is.

The merman groans at his touch; Connor flinches back, but continues, wrapping the shirt up so he can press it to the bleeding wound.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But I need to stop the bleeding. I'm sorry."

The merman pants, grits his teeth, and stares up at the sky. Gives no indication of understanding what Connor said.

The waves lap at Connor's legs, drenching and no doubt ruining his pants while he keeps steady pressure over the weeping wound.

Connor's arms shake as he holds his hands steady, and after a while (he doesn't know how much time has passed), the merman's breathing starts to ease. It causes Connor to panic for a moment, thinking he's worsening, but the blood is surely starting to slow.

The merman sighs carefully, and places a heavy hand over Connor's.

"It's okay," the merman rumbles, gazing up at Connor, eyes significantly softer.

Connor watches the merman's lips move, brow knit in confusion, because while the merman's lips moved, the sounds he made didn't seem to line up correctly with the words said. "What?" Connor echoes dumbly.

The merman looks just as confused for a second. "I said that correctly, didn't I? You can let go now."

And Connor IS certain something is off. Because the merman's mouth barely moves, looks like he isn't even speaking, yet words spill from his mouth with a voice as clear as any man's. "But - how is-"

The merman catches on. "The ocean," he says as explanation, heavy tail lifting and hitting the shallow water. He gestures with one hand along the waves, the beats of water washing over his hand. "It allows me to See and Hear you. Communicate."

"See...me?"

"Your language, your intentions." The merman's hand over Connor's gives one squeeze. "So I know you're not a threat." He looks a little abashed. "I apologize for yelling at you the other day. I did not understand who or what you were yet."

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Connor breathes, words spilling from his mouth while his mind plays catch-up. "I just - can't believe /any/ of this- can't believe you're real."

The merman gives a half-smile. Reaches up with one hand to brush his fingertips along Connor's jaw, the touch causing Connor to softly gasp. "What is your name, angel?" asks the merman.

"Connor," he manages to reply.

He blinks, offers a small hint of a smile. "Connor," the merman echoes, something that looks suspiciously like a smile beginning to form along the side of his face.

Connor goes to hold the merman's hand to his face, keeping it in place there. "And yours?" he asks.

The merman's brow twitches. "You may call me..Hank. That is the name I was known by before I took the crown for my people."

"The crown?" Connor clarifies, surprised that of all his theories, /this/ is the one that sticks. "You're a king?"

Hank nods, the movement weak. "I am."

The only thing that passes through Connor's mind is that he had never met royalty before, and that he wasn't entirely sure on what the protocols were. But he somehow manages to stammer out, "Then it's, it's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

Hank chuckles low and deep, but it lacks true amusement. "Thank you, Connor. But really, Hank is fine."

Hank. It doesn't sound real. Such a farm-boy type name he would never expect to hear out in the middle of the tropics from the name of a merking.

Said king shifts in discomfort, expression lightly twisted from the pressure.

Connor's brows crease in concern, and he reminds himself to hold fast over the open wound at the King's middle. "What did this to you?" he asks.

The King blinks up at him somewhat weakly, and lets his hand drift to where the wound is, draping his palm over Connor's. It's wide and webbed, and must be nearly twice the size of Connor's small, soft hands. The human feels himself blush, and hopes his new acquaintance doesn't notice his reaction.

He doesn't let on, "A man, though I'm not sure of his name. He sails on a vessel with the colors of red, white, and blue. He seems to have a personal vendetta against my people, so we try to avoid him at all cost, yet-" Hank inhales sharp, pressed a hand harder against Connor's for more pressure. "I got too close - tried to sabotage his ship. One of his men saw me -nearly impaled me with a harpoon but I managed to escape with just a scrape."

Connor recalls the huge wave Hank sent at him in efforts to intimidate him. "You -don't you have a kind of magic that would allow you to fend them off? What about that wave you used on me?"

Hank does a meager shake of his head. "The wave I would have to conjure like that would take far too much - it would probably kill me.

The young human frowns, and turns attention back to the seeping wound. Carefully, he removes the white shirt, now stained with bright red blood, and is pleased when hardly any bleeds out.

"I think we've managed to stop the bleeding, for now," Connor says. He rolls out his shirt, washing it in the surf that gathers around his knees and roughly cleans what he can. It's still stained a bright pink, but he couldn't care less

"It's probably best if you don't swim, at least to allow the wound to close." After wringing out the shirt, he tries to fold it somewhat neatly length-wise, then kneels back at Hank's side so he can wrap it around his middle. The merman arches up the best he can to accommodate what Connor's doing.

The man looks to the king, empathetic and worried. "Are there any of your people who can come to escort you home? Or a place you can reside safely without worrying about predators?"

Hank furrows salt-and-pepper brows, thoughtful, then nods. "There is. I've already sent word to my people through the ocean, but they won't be here until tomorrow. There is a safe place, though."

Connor waits, and Hank informs, "The lagoon, where you first saw us. If we can get there before the tide low, I'll be safe and secluded there from any threats and I can wait for my escort there."

"Okay, okay," Connor repeats, somewhat frantic as he ties the shirt around Hank's thick abdomen tightly to maintain pressure at the wound. "The lagoon is only a short way around the bend - do you think you'll be able to make it that far?"

Hank nods. "I will. But, if you could accompany me-"

"Of course," Connor agrees. He hesitates, though, uncertain of his hands, where to move and what to grab. "Do you-?"

"Yes," Hank breathes, strained. "If you can pull me deeper into the water, and walk me there-"

Connor nods, mostly to himself, as he steels his nerves and excitement at getting to touch the merman further, along with the fear of keeping him safe.

"Alright, okay," Connor says, moving down Hank's body, and fixing his arms around his hips. The king braces his arms, pushing himself down  
into the water in an attempt to help Connor move his bulky body.

"Feel okay?" Connor asks as water rushes over his backside the further he backs up. The scales his hands cling to are slick, but soft to the touch. Slippery like a fish's. "I'm not hurting you further?"

"No," Hank refuses. The cresting waves from the ocean start to completely submerge the merman, his words cut off by the seawater.

Connor stills, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "You're not at risk for drowning, are you?"

Hank shakes his head, managing to keep his head up over the water. He explains wordlessly as flaps along his neck flare open and closed, fleshy gills. Connor nods in assent, going back to bringing Hank deeper into the tide.

Hank's body is soon submerged, tailfin and all, and Connor moves quickly to adjust his grasp. He loops an arm across Hank's back, hefting him up under the arms while the king's arm wraps around Connor's neck and settles at his shoulder. So deep in the ocean water, a bystander might think it's just two people walking in the surf, less they were to look down and see the shimmering appendage that is Hank's tail.

"All right?" Connor asks, hefting him up.

Hank nods. "All right."

"Not dizzy or anything? You're not gonna pass out?" Connor starts to take slow and steady steps through the churning water, fighting the push and pull of the waves.

Hank tries to help as best he can, beating his tail forward to propel them a bit. "No, I'm fine. Please - continue."

Connor is no stranger to the sea by any means, especially over the past few weeks spent on the island, but he's certainly no match for the powerful waves that continue to pull and beat down against the two stragglers. More than once Connor ends up swallowing a mouthful of seawater, grains of sand getting stuck in his teeth. His feet scramble for purchase on the soft sand underfoot, but Hank manages to keep himself afloat, even with Connor's weaker hold

It takes some time, and their progress is less than ideal, but soon the rocks lining the edge of the lagoon rise up. There's a slight rise of the waves going over the rock's edge, and Connor knows they're running out of time.

"Hurry," he urges Hank with renewed vigor. "The tide is almost out.

Hank is exhausted, but the King finds a bit of energy to push himself forward. "Let's go, then!" he calls, keeping up with Connor through the rolling waves.

They get to the lowest part of the wall. Mustering all his strength, Connor aides Hank in heaving him up to the edge. The rocks are smooth and slick from the salt waves, and Hank groans under his breath as he lies on one side. Connor jumps up to join him, then slides down to the other side to help ease the King in.

"Thank you," Hank says, body relaxing as he settles into the quiet water of the lagoon. "I'll never be able to repay you for what you've done."

"I'm more than happy to help," Connor says with a warm and genuine smile, and leads Hank toward the small bit of beach near the back of the lagoon, secluded and trapped by towering cliffs. "I'm just sorry for this happening to you."

"It's not your fault," Hank says with a dismissive hand. "But thank you, Connor.

In the shallow part of the water, Hank rests with his head back so he can stare at the blue sky high above. It's the same color as his eyes, the same as his tail.

Exhausted, Connor lets himself collapse next to Hank. The tides lap at his feet, goes all the way up to the small of his back. He sighs, content in the warmth of the sun and on the verge of falling asleep right there.

After a few minutes pass, Connor opens his eyes, breathing in deep. He stretches his arms up over his head, reaches his toes down, tickling against the water.

He turns his head to look at Hank; the merman's eyes are closed. He rests his hands over his chest, and Connor can almost imagine he's just a regular human out napping on a beach, were it not for the massive, scaled tail that lifts and lazily smacks against the water.

"Are you hungry?" Connor asks, voice slightly scratched. He props himself up on one elbow to speak to the merking. The merman cracks open one eye, and Connor continues, "I admit I'm not the most skilled fisherman, but I could try to catch you something. Or I could get some fruit from the island? Although I haven't seen you eat fruit before-"

"That would be fine. Either one, thank you," Hank rumbles, steady against Connor's fretting. He reaches with one hand to Connor's forehead, and the young human stills, frozen by the contact.

Hank twirls a finger carefully through a loose strand of Connor's hair, one that Connor can never manage to keep under control and remain in place with the rest of his curls.

And the look Hank gives him is so content, so peaceful and adoring, that it sends a jolt of electricity fast through Connor's form.

His reaction manifests as a blush settling quick over his collar and cheeks, the blood rushing through his body to the surface. It's surely his body attempting to betray him.

The ocean lapping at his feet brings back what Hank said earlier, about sensing his intentions, allowing them to speak.

..Does that include his thoughts?

"Fruit then!" Connor squeaks, scrambling to his feet, somewhat shaky as he staggers towards a small pocket of jungle set to one side of the lagoon.

He hears Hank's wordless chuckle behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Connor returns from the jungle with an armful of full, ripe mangoes. He smiles victoriously, his previous embarrassment cast aside as he calls to his new friend. "Hank!"

The merman sits up at the call, looking somewhat tired but pleased when he sees the bounty Connor brought with him.

Hank returns the call, the sound trilling and non-human in the language of the merpeople. And Connor doesn't understand a bit of it, but he smiles anyway at the friendly tone.

"Mangoes!" he declares, sitting himself down cross-legged, ensuring he's just in the surf of water so he and Hank can communicate.

"Excellent! Thank you, angel," Hank says. He moves carefully, sitting himself up, his posture tentative as he tries to maintain his balance as he sits on his fish tail.

Connor turns a bit pink at the nickname, and gestures with one hand to the food. "Enjoy," he says.

Hank eagerly grabs one, biting into it deep so the juice runs down the corners of his mouth. Connor forces himself to look away.

The merking moans in pleasure, "It's so good!" he gushes, taking another hearty bite. "My people don't often get to eat fruit from land," he explains, mouth full as he chews. "Only if there's ever a shipwreck with supplies or a tree that hangs over the ocean. Even then by the time the fruit drops it's usually overripe.

"Well, hey, anytime," Connor replies, smiling a bit as he watches the merman enjoy the food. "I'm glad to help."

Hank looks back to Connor, and swallows. "Yet another way you've helped me. My debt to you continues to grow." But his tone is grateful, the half-smile along his face gentle.

"Oh, please!" Connor insists, "It's no problem at all! Please don't think of yourself in debt to me. Think of it as me fixing the wrong that was done to you."

"Never," Hank refuses with a light wave of his hand. "The wrongs done to me and my people by the man who did this are far too numerous, even when taken into account with your kindness. Still-" a glimmer passes over Hank's eyes. "You're the first human I've ever encountered who didn't immediately latch onto the opportunity to have a merman in debt to you. And a /king/ nonetheless."

Connor recognizes the look in Hank's eyes, then, the little glimmer as the merking appraises him.

Approval.

Connor ducks his head, infinitely pleased, and absently draws little lines into the wet sand between them. "It was simply the right thing to do, Hank. And besides that-" he swallows, steels his nerves. "It would be a terrible loss to let someone as beautiful as you die."

When Connor doesn't hear Hank's reaction, he dares to lift his eyes, and is greatly rewarded for doing so.

Hank's face has turned a deep red, his hand still where he holds the mango. He's just /frozen/.

"Hank-?" Connor starts.

But then Hank swallows whatever bite of mango he had in his mouth, and stammers out, "You think - you think I'm beautiful?"

Of all things, Connor didn't expect /that/ to be the follow-up question from Hank. "Of course!" he stammers, eyes wide as he leans forward. He gestures with one hand. "So much I couldn't even - I mean there's your tail, for one. I've never seen anything so-" he swallows, stumbles on, "Your hair, your build, your - your eyes-"

Hank effectively cuts Connor off mid-ramble with a well-placed hand on Connor's restless one, accompanied by a genuine if not bashful smile. "You're very kind, Connor. Thank you."

Connor ducks his head, warm from the sensation of Hank's wet and webbed hand dwarfing his own.

When the merking clears his throat, Connor lifts his gaze expectantly.

Hank looks nervous, licks his lips in a very human gesture, and braves himself to speak, "And, if it means anything, from a merman you just met.. I think you're beautiful, too."

Connor's body chooses to immediately respond by flushing from nose to fingertips.

He prays whatever tan he might have acquired while living on the island masks his reaction, though he's doubtful it would do much when all he can do is stare at Hank, stunned.

The young human clears his throat in turn. "/Now/ who's the one being too kind?" he asks with a light smile, praying that Hank can't hear the pounding in his chest.

Hank chuckles, curls his fingers along the back of Connor's hand. "I speak the truth, though, human Connor. You're so very fair. Hair and eyes the color of the earth, the grace and humbleness you carry with yourself-

It's all-" he coughs, clears his throat again and looks away, far too embarrassed to match Connor's gaze. "It's all very attractive."

Blood pounds in Connor's ears, and he swallows past the dryness of his throat. "Thank you, Hank," he says, voice a bit of a stammer. "I- um-" his face is surely burning. "I appreciate the compliment."

"Tis nothing," Hank dismisses, both now awkwardly avoiding each other in the face of such flowery compliments.

Hank is the one to speak, clear the air so to speak, and addresses Connor, "So- is there truly nothing I or my people can do for you?"

Connor is quick to refuse, "Truly, Hank, there's nothing you have to do for me." He shrugs off-handedly. "I'm happy enough knowing that you and your people exist in the first place. When I came to this island, I never would have dreamed that I would find anything like you."

Hank is quiet for a spell, but then he lazily moves his tail against the surf of the water, thoughtful, and speaks. "Do not think of it as you owing us a debt, if that is what makes you uncomfortable. Think of it as a way for I and my people to say thank you.

The merking leans forward temptingly. "We could bring you riches, if you were to wish it. Jewels, gold, enchantments. Tell me what we can get for you, Connor." His eyes sparkle. "Anything. Just name it."

Connor instinctively leans back from the pressured words, uncertain. He chooses his words carefully. "I come from a family of wealth - I know that riches will only add to whatever problems I have. And I've no need for enchantments."

Hank starts to deflate, looking somewhat bemused, and he starts to lean away, but Connor's voice catches him.

"What I truly crave - what I came here for," Connor begins. "is knowledge. I wished to learn about the native wildlife on this island, and instead found a people lost to the rest of the world. So much more than I ever could imagine."

He lets his words settle, and he feels Hank's eyes on him. Connor swallows down his nervousness. Bows his head in what he hopes comes off as a humble gesture.

"Allow me to study and learn from you and your people. Teach me your language, your culture, your way of living. Let me study so I may learn."

For a handful of moments, there is only quiet, and Connor fears the worst. Recalls the rage when Hank first encountered him, the roar ordering him to leave him and his people alone. He's surely crossing a line, asking the merman king if he can study his people, /deliberately/ put them at risk.

His worries pass through him like a whirling storm, and then Hank speaks.

"I am willing to do this for you," he says.

Connor turns to Hank sharply, eyes widening. He stares, thanks and words of disbelief about to pour from his mouth, but the Merking continues. "But-" he starts, with one hand raised. "I ask one thing in return of you for this.

"I will grant you all that you wish of us, but only in exchange that you shall never spread it to anyone else of your kind." He withdraws from Connor slightly, who only tries to fasten his hand tighter at Hank's.

Hank's words lower. "I cannot put my people at risk, even for someone like you."

"Of course," Connor agrees easily, eyes wide and heart frantic. "I would never ask that of you."

"Then swear it to me," Hank says, leaning forward back into Connor's space. Something crackles in the surrounding air, like lightning before a summer storm. Electric blue like the color of Hank's eyes.

"Swear that you will not cause any harm to myself or my people."

It doesn't require much thought on Connor's part, and he finds himself quick to answer, "I agree! Of course I do. How could I possibly refuse?"

His words release the crackling in the air, and it breaks like a wave, warm and refreshing like a warm ocean breeze.

"Then it is done," Hank says, clearly approving as a smile breaks along his face.

Hank reaches out to Connor, and carefully, slides himself back to the easy surf of the lagoon. "Well then," he says, something sly in the depths of his eyes. "Let's get started, shall we?"


	4. Falling in Love

Connor loses track of the days.

Not in a bad way or anything, just in a. . . too-excited-by-what's-happening to keep an accurate record. He moves his small and isolated camp in the jungle to the beach at the lagoon. Sets up his tent and stores his supplies, but often finds himself not even using it, and instead sleeps under the stars on the sand, right at the brink of the surf where he can hear Hank and other merpeople moving around.

Hank recovers well from his encounter with man, and brings his people to meet Connor. Both parties are tentative at first, though dreadfully curious. But the tension between Connor and the Merpeople break when a particularly young one launches himself at Connor from beneath the depths, smiling and laughing as the human instinctively catches him.

Connor can hear Hank's rich laughter from behind, where he sits on his smooth stone, and all at once the merpeople seem to relax.

Connor learns so much every day. He's pleased to learn that his original hypothesis was correct, that Hank watches the youngest merpeople during the day while the adults hunt or forage for food.

"I've been King for many seasons," Hank tells Connor one day. They're both seated on the smooth rock over the lagoon, comfortable in the shade of an overhanging tree. They pick at the food in front of them, a variety of fruits and some fish Connor cooked. "My hair still had its golden color when I first took my place as King."

Connor munches on his food, teasing with a mischievous smile. "Oh, so that must have been years ago!"

Quick as a whip, Hank lifts his tail from the water and smacks his fin along Connor's side, effectively soaking him in water. Connor just cringes away from the touch, laughing.

"That's enough out of you," Hank growls, but it's playful.

Hank tells Conor more about the way of his people, how the role of King is placed to one who is deemed to be not just the strongest, but also one of wisdom and absolute loyalty to his people.

"All very admirable qualities," Connor comments, interested in how it's not just a system deemed by heritage. "For humans, royalty is often determined by family. So the son of the king is a prince, and then becomes king when his father dies."

The merking frowns at that. "But what if the son is not a fit to rule his people?"

Connor shrugs. "It usually ends badly. Revolutions, rebellions.."

This seems to disturb Hank, who shifts in place where he sits. "I don't understand mankind."

"Neither do we."

During the daytime, Connor often finds himself either swimming in the lagoon with the young merpeople with intermissions of relaxing on the beach, sketching what he sees.

He tries to approach his studies as scientifically as possible. Makes notes on the slightly altered shape of every fin he sees between merpeople. Observes that each one has tails that shimmer every color of the rainbow. Oranges, reds, pinks, green, yellow an blues. The colors seem to remain on the brighter side of the color spectrum, all glittering like jewels in the sun.

No one mermaid looks the same. Different builds, a balance between male and female, skin tones varying from milky white all over the spectrum to a rich black.

The consistency Connor discovers is that each merperson is ridiculously curious, perhaps even more so of him than he is of them. Once Hank gave the all-clear that Connor was safe, all sense of personal boundaries collapsed.

Standing chest-deep in water, he felt hands grabbing and tickling at his hands, his torso, tugging from behind at his hair. But what interested them the most was his feet. Ticklish, Connor bit his lip to try to keep his laughter contained as hands poked and prodded at his toes.

He couldn't stop himself though if one caught him off-guard, and he burst into laughter and would kick back into the water, hearing Hank off to the side laughing at the sight.

Yes, Connor made a valiant effort to remain professional, distant, and objective.. but most days he found himself playing with the children, laughing and playing games with them in the water.

All the while, Hank would look on fondly. Observing but never interacting, ever dutiful to his role as protector.

In the evenings, when the children were retrieved by their parents, Connor and Hank's time was all their own.

It consisted of talking, learning more about each other. For each bit of information Hank passed on, Connor would equally exchange his own. They were endlessly curious about each other and the culture both came from. Hank found it particularly interesting how many different kinds of people there were in the world - different cultures and languages.

"How many do you know?" he asked Connor one night.

"I'm familiar with three," Connor admit. "English is my mother language, then I learned some French as a child, and then Latin for my studies in science."

Hank tells Connor of the different groups of mermaids across the waters, how they are of different cultures and have many differences, but are able to communicate with one another through the ocean and the power granted to whoever is king.

And speaking of language..

Hank teaches Connor a little bit every day of their language. It's difficult, far more complex sounds than Connor has ever attempted to make. Trills and warbles that bubble from Connor's throat like an underwater geyser. Most nights leave him feeling like a dolphin with the sounds he makes, but Hank continues to reassure Connor on his progress, pleased that the human would want to learn it at all.

Connor's progress feels monumentally slow, but he flushes with pleasure one morning when he wakes up to the call of Hank from the water, and is able to process the strange language as Hank calling him by name in his language.

Though it's not really his name Hank calls him by, not really. He asks Hank about it one day, the question sending a blush that passes deep across Hank's face.

"It actually translates to, ah, to angel."

Connor's face burns just as bright from this new information, and only manages to release a strangled, "Ah, I see," and spends the rest of the day avoiding Hank's gaze. But that doesn't stop them from catching glances between them, shy but welcome nonetheless.

With the progress he's making, Connor makes attempts to practice, speaking with the merpeople during the day. The children giggle endlessly at his mispronunciations, but are supportive nonetheless as they correct and help Connor practice.

The children ask for more details on the first encounter between Hank and Connor and how Connor saved him.

"I didn't save him, exactly," Connor says a bit bashfully. "I simply helped him in a time of need after he was injured."

This answer, simple enough, still sends the children into fits of giggles and excited whispers. Not long after that, Connor recognizes the difference in what they call him. It seems to be some kind of combination between his own title of 'angel' as well as the word for 'king' like they use for Hank.

Connor, a bit confused but suspicious, asks Hank about it one day in the light of the setting sun.

The sky is orange, and it does little to mask the pink Hank turns at the question. "You're right, in what it means," he says, voice stammering just in the slightest. "It-uh, it's translated to 'king's angel' in the way they're saying it."

A cheeky, teasing nickname that Connor would absolutely expect from children and young teenagers. That thought does nothing to quell the blush that steals over his face and along his chest. "Oh," Connor says, drawing a blank when all he can focus on is the pounding of his heart and the tingling feeling in his fingertips.

Hank seems to take Connor's responding quiet poorly, the meaning of the new name not lost on him, and he amends, "I can ask them to stop-"

"No! No, it's, uh. It's fine, Hank. Really." Connor clears his throat, attempts to bring himself back to equilibrium. "I don't mind it."

The air is thick between them. Hank coughs. "Very well, as it suits you. Uhm. Good job, by the way. On recognizing it. Well done."

"Yes! The lessons seem to be paying off!" Connor says, somewhat forced. He feels dizzy. "You're a great teacher!"

Hank looks at him oddly, but there's a layer of affection in his eyes. "Thank you.." he pauses, seems to battle himself over something, "...my angel."

Connor's heart nearly bursts, face assuredly on fire, and his brain makes up some excuse about "Uh, I have to go do human stuff!" and takes off quickly across the beach where he can dive into the safety of his tent. It's only there that he can hide the blushing of his face as well as the goofy smile he just can't seem to put away.


	5. Protect Me

Connor is able to sense the change between him and the mermaid king. He would consider himself a fool otherwise. And though he isn't entirely familiar with this charged energy between them, he admits to himself that he enjoys the connection he shares with the king. Craves it even. Finds himself smiling with every moment he spends with him. Catches how comfortable he is spending time with the royalty, and even eyeing the king from time to time while his mind travels to less-than-honorable places.

He tells himself that he's simply admiring the king's figure, studying. For science.

But when Hank catches him doing it, and raises one eyebrow knowingly, Connor knows he doesn't have a chance at defending his actions before he swiftly looks away, mortified but pleased by the king's reaction.

\--

It's late, the end to another perfect day in Mermaid Lagoon, (as Connor has started calling it) when it happens.

One minute, he's deep in the water, diving low and chasing after a playful young mergirl named Alice. Then in the next, as he surfaces the crystal blue waters, he's totally alone.

Connor looks around, following the quiet sound of splashes. There's flickers of colors where he can see the merpeople suddenly withdrew- far against the deep edges of the lagoon.

"What's going on?" he calls, treading the water and staring after the merpeople

He thinks for a moment, frowning, and tries to call to them in their language, "Is something-"

"CONNOR!"

Hank's voice screaming his name causes him to startle, and he turns as fast as he can in the water, just in time to see Hank diving from his place at his rock.

"Hank?" he calls, tentative and beginning to feel a flicker of fear growing in his chest. "What's-"

Mid-turn, he sees two fins jutting out of the water. Dark gray, cutting through the lagoon like a knife. Beneath the surface, Connor can see a massive dark shape of a muscled body moving in a circular pattern around the very-exposed Connor.

Shark, his mind supplies for him, all of his processes suddenly blind with terror. He's far from any kind of mass he can swim to safety to, and swimming frantically to the shore feels like not the best idea.

That's when Connor sees a quick flash of bright blue beneath the water, a shape moving at an inhuman speed that has to be Hank. Connor doesn't even have time to speak his name before the merking SLAMS himself into the side of the shark, throwing the creature off it's path. The beast whips towards

Hank, massive tail swinging as it turns towards its aggressor, but the merking is swift. He avoids the creatures biting jaws, crests the water quickly in time to make eye contact with Connor, and smacks his tail at the surface of the water /hard/.

Connor knows Hank has used his magic because he feels the ripple of it in the air, and the resulting wave from Hank's tail is far too large to be physically possible, like the first time they met.

Connor realizes swiftly that Hank did it intentionally to send him careening back to the safety of the beach.

But all Connor can think is that it just leaves him incapable of protecting the merman and helping him against the shark.

So far from what's happening, he can barely distinguish what's going on. All he sees is the writhing sparkle of Hank's tail in the water, and then the darker more ominous shadow of the shark in the water.

It only lasts for is probably minutes but to Connor seems to span on for hours. He wrangles his hands together anxiously, biting his lip to keep himself from crying out Hank's name. Spouts of water go splashing up from the tussling, and if he focuses he can hear the sound of Hank snarling and roaring at the creature, trying to fight it off and urge it away.

It comes to a sudden halt when Hank barrels into the carnivore again, and the shark has finally had enough. It turns with a quick whip of it's tail, and disappears back into the open water away from the lagoon; certainly, it'll be remiss to return to this same spot again looking for food.

The merpeople return to the open part of the lagoon as soon as the danger passes. Connor stands in ankle-deep water, and waits. His hands open and closing with anxiety.

Hank doesn't spend too much time with his people, just enough to ensure their own safety and security before he swims Connor's way.

"Are you all right?" he calls, voice edged with panic. "I saw the fin and warned the others; I forgot that you wouldn't be able to-"

Connor doesn't hear the rest of it, because he's already rushing through the deep waters as quick as he can to launch himself at Hank. His arms wrap around the man's neck, latching themselves closed while he breathes in and out over the hammering of his heart.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," he orders, limbs and voice shaking. He buries his face into Hank's neck, breathes in the comforting and reassuring smell of the sea. He clings tighter, any worries about being embarrassed tossed out the window. "I was so scared, Hank." To his ears, his voice sounds so small and weak, but that's how he feels, too. "I thought you might get hurt, that you might-" he swallows, "that something else might happen." He trembles, blinks at tears cresting over his eyelids, and he wants to curl in on himself. And all he can find in himself is the same echo, "I was so scared."

Hank's arms are full and safe and solid against Connor's back. One hand goes to cup the back of his head while the other runs up and down along Connor's spine.

"I'm sorry, my angel," he purrs, sounding choked up. "I won't do it again, starfish, I promise."

Connor knows he's lost all sense of dignity when he sobs in response, the sound wet and ugly while he's wrapped up in Hank's comforting embrace.

Moments pass with them wrapped around each other when a thought occurs to Connor. He considers letting it go, but his mind won't rest, and his anxiety rears its head when all he can see in his mind's eye is the dark shape moving quick towards Hank.

"Don't go," he requests into Hank's throat, sounding meek and feeble. "Not tonight, please."

Hank's body heaves with a heavy but positively gentle sigh. "Okay, Con, okay. I'll stay here with you tonight. I won't leave your side."

Connor sniffles, wishes he had a tissue or a kerchief to wipe at his eyes. "Promise?"

Hank's arms squeeze him even more. "Promise."


	6. Hold Me*

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thar be smut here, children. please pass on by if ye be under 18!!!

The night that blankets over them is filled with stars and a half-moon. It casts the beach in a silver-white light, turning the sands soft as pearl.

Along the lagoon, Connor sits on a rocky edge. He has a blanket stretched out beneath him to lie on while he lets one hand lazily drift across the surface of the water.

Next to him, Hank keeps himself propped up on the rock, his arms crossed where he cradles his head and his fish tail can gently tread the water.

His head is so close to Connors, only inches apart, and close enough that the merking can idly curl bits of Connor's hair around his finger.

It's all so intimate, and it warms Connor from finger to toe-tip to have this time with Hank. Just quietly spending time in the same place, not needing to say anything, just taking comfort in the other.

"Your people will be okay without you, tonight?" Connor asks, his murmur soft as feathers.

"Yes, they'll be fine," Hank responds, just as quiet, his voice a rumbling purr in the dark. "Markus will be fine keeping them safe tonight."

Connor can't help but feel like he's being a bit selfish, stealing Hank away for himself like this. But at the same time, it feels good to have this alone time together, comforting after the attack from the shark.

Hank didn't suffer any serious injuries from the fight, just a couple of scrapes here and there. Connor was quick to tend to Hank's wounds, fretful over the merman's well-being while relishing the chance to run his hands over Hank's bare body.

His muscles are firm beneath Connor's wandering hands, strong beneath his palms, but softer around his middle. The injury that determined their first meeting has long since healed by now, leaving a pale pink scar.

Now sated in the knowledge that Hank is all in one piece and safe after protecting Connor, the human is content to stay curled up with the merking, relishing the attention.

"I wish I could be one of you," Connor admits, voice quiet in his confession.

The merking doesn't still his gentle movements through Connor's hair. The human stares longingly at Hank, lets his eyes drift down his form. "I could go with you; we wouldn't have to stay in the lagoon. You wouldn't have to divide your attention between me and your people."

"Its fine, my angel," Hank says, voice like a gentle wave over Connor's heart. "I like spending time with you." Something sad passes across his features, "And the kind of magic you're talking about is far beyond even my abilities. It would have to take a power far greater than what I have to do that dramatic of a transformation."

The hope that first flickered in Connor's chest fizzes away. He glances off to stare at the curve of Hank's shoulder, then the softness of his silver beard, the fullness of his lips.

"I had hoped it would be possible," he admits.

"Unfortunately not by my power alone, little starfish," Hank says, finally breaking the distance between them to trail a finger lightly down Connor's face. The touch sends shivers down Connor's spine, and he leans forward, seeking more.

"Besides," the king starts, "you don't need to be a merman. I-" he chokes on his words, curls his finger at Connor's temple as he fights to find what he wants to say. Connor stares at him, enraptured, his heart caught thick in his throat.

"You what, Hank?" Connor prompts, terrified but aching to know what the merman was trying to say.

Connor thinks he has a very good idea of what it might be, though, if the pounding of his heart in time with Hank's were to be any kind of indication.

Hank strangles for words, his face pink, and Connor finds himself impatient. He wriggles closer to Hank, his breath brushing the king's face. "What, Hank?" he asks, teeming with an excitement building low in his stomach. "What is it?"

Connor's insistence seems to staunch Hank of whatever bravery he had steeled for himself. The merking's expression schools over in flustered irritation. To Connor's dismay and disappointment, he actually starts to withdraw back into the dark waters of the lagoon. The gruff merman sinks away, "Augh, just forget it-!"

"No-o! Ha-ank!" Connor pleads, going after him even when the merman sinks below the dark waves, lost to sight. Connor leans over the water, staring into the depths for any sign of that familiar blue sheen. "Hank please-- I want to k ow what you were going to say.."

His only answer is the sound of the waves rippling over stones and sand. There's not a single sound to indicate Hank's whereabouts in the waters.

Connor whines, but it devolves into more of a dejected whimper as he goes back to trailing his fingertips along the surface. He keeps an eye out for the merman, but everything is quiet and annoyingly peaceful.

"Please, Hank?"

The only response is quiet, and Connor starts to accept that Hank isn't going to show himself, at least not tonight.

"Hank," he starts, voice clogging with burning tears. The water makes no sign of replying. "I want you to come back. I want to tell you something, that- that I-"

The water beneath Connor suddenly shifts as Hank surges forward from the depths. And before Connor can react, Hank's hands are holding onto his face, his neck, keeping him in place. And the merman king's lips are on his own.

It literally steals Connor's breath away, and he parts from Hank only for the merman to say, "You insufferable, beautiful, perfect human. I love you."

There are tears streaming down Connor's face, and his breath hitches on a sob as he leans forward, stealing another hungry kiss from Hank.

He tastes like the sea. Like salt and power and magic. The air between them sparks with it, and as the kisses deepen, Connor leans further into Hank, who only lowers slowly back into the lagoon.

"I love you too," Connor gasps at one point in between kisses, desperate, like he needs Hank to know more than anything. "I love you, Hank. I love you."

"I know," Hank says, and as his frame lowers further into the pool, Connor is inexplicably drawn to him. Drawn to the bright blue of his eyes, to the love shining bright in his entire form. Connor decides he doesn't have a problem following him as he lowers himself into the pool after Hank. "I just didn't want you to be the one to say it first," the merman admits with a hint at a smile.

Connor laughs, and lets himself fully immerse into the cool waters. "Of course you would," he says, smiling. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a king." The waves lap at his chest, tease at his hair, and he holds onto Hank for support.

The merking laughs softly at that, and places reverent kisses to Connor's neck, his lips enough to brush the tears away from Connor's cheeks. "Stay with me, my angel."

"I will, Hank," Connor promises, somewhat breathless from the kisses down his throat. His hands grapple for a hold on Hank's shoulders, and he wraps his legs loosely at Hank's waist. Even as the merman lowers him into deeper waters, Connor knows he trusts him.

Hank holds one palm at the small of Connor's back while the other combs gently through his hair. The human is surprised at how easily Hank is able to keep them both afloat and stable.

Somewhere on their way, Connor lost his shorts, and it doesn't take long for Hank's wide hand to take advantage of that as he holds onto the globe of Connor's ass appreciatively. Gives it a considering squeeze.

The touch elicits a soft gasp from Connor, who only presses himself closer to Hank. This action only causes him to jolt at the new sensation of slick scales against his cock.

"Connor," Hank rumbles, voice low and grounding. The hand on Connor's face circles at his cheek. Hank waits to speak until Connor turns his head to make eye contact.

There's love deep in Hank's eyes, accompanied by patience and deep understanding. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. I can wait, and even if you decide you're never going to be interested, that's not why we're together. I'm not after you because you're a sweet piece of tail." His smile is so warm it makes Connor want to cry. Hank thumbs at the corner of his eye, gentle and sweet and everything Connor could ever want or need. "You're a match for me, my angel. All differences aside, I realize I've waited my whole life just for you."

Connor does admit that he has a couple of concerns considering any.. anatomical differences between him and his merman lover..

But he mostly wants to figure it all out from experiencing it.

"You're perfect, Hank," Connor says, leaning forward and resting his head in the crook of Hank's neck.

The merman's hand spans at the small of Connor's back again, comforting. "Whatever makes you comfortable, love," he says, voice soft. "I'm not sure how different we are physically, but-"

Love pours out of Connor's chest all over again. Hank thinks he's asking for them to wait.

"Ha-ank," Connor grumbles, and makes a half-hearted thrust forward, cock pressing to the king's abdomen.

Hank goes absolutely still from Connor's movement, then gasps as the human bites lightly at the base of Hank's throat, and does another teasing thrust of his hips. The action is almost desperate.

Connor growls into Hank's skin. "I want you to fucking ruin me."

Hank outright laughs. Throws his head back and everything and pulling Connor closer. "Well I guess that answers that," he says, chuckling and drawing Connor back for another kiss. "You never really did take me as one prone to caution."

"Never," Connor affirms, moaning softly from the kisses Hank bestows on him. He grinds his hips in a forward up-and-down motion, gasping when he feels his cock slide against what feels like a slit in Hank's body.

"H-How does-" he stammers. "What do-"

Hank chuckles, slows Connor's movements with a firm hand at his lover's hip. "Easy down there you seahorse. Should probably go through a couple things before we get out of control."

Connor grinds his teeth impatiently, twitches against Hank's hand. "Get on with it then.

Hank laughs, the sound low and deep, "Now I don't know much about how it works for humans, but I figure from looking at ya, that you only have-?"

"I have a dick, Hank, yes. Man, male, whatever." Connor arches his back, restless. "Can we please-"

"Can you get pregnant?"

Connor scoffs at the joke, "No, Hank, of course I can't get-" But a small part of his brain reminds him who... /what/ exactly he's doing this with, and he looks sharply at Hank, who watches him with absolute sincerity, although somewhat chagrined at Connor's tone.

Immediately embarrassed of himself, and driven with sudden curiosity, Connor stops and turns himself back to Hank.

".. Can YOU get pregnant?" he asks, voice a bit more shrill in disbelief.

Hank's brow wrinkles, blinks oddly at Connor. "Well.. yeah- Wait, you CAN'T?!"

Connor turns bright pink, and he splutters, "No! I- n- of.." He turns away to cough, and he curls his fingers at the back of Hank's neck. "Humans are typically born with either primarily male or female sexual organs. I- uh- it's different for mermaids, I'm guessing?"

"Well," Hank frowns, seemingly flustered by this information just as much as Connor is, "I guess so. We usually present as more masculine or feminine, depending on the merperson.. but all merpeople have male and female means of reproduction."

Hm. Connor thought a lesson in mermaid biology from Hank would be a bit more sexy than this. Or at least, sexier, considering he has his dick out.

"That's not too weird for you?" Hank asks, a bit worried by Connor's responding quiet.

"No! No of course not!" Connor refuses immediately, and presses himself to Hank's body. "I just- it's different. But it's okay. Just another thing about you I get to love." He gives a tentative smile back to Hank. "And.. it's not too weird for you that I don't-"

"Not at all," Hank refuses, beginning to smile as the excitement between them eases into something more comfortable. He chuckles quietly, then leans forward to bump his forehead to Connor's shoulder "Humans are so strange," Hank observes.

Connor laughs, soft, and kisses the side of Hank's head at his temple. "Fair enough."

They remain wrapped up in each other for a couple of peaceful seconds, just the two of them under the pearl moon against the dark waves of the lagoon.

"So," Connor starts, tilting his jaw so he can brush his lips to Hank's ear. "You can get pregnant. If we.."

He feels the blood rush to Hank's face through his sensitive lips. "Technically, yes. But, uh- not right now." When Connor turns his head to meet Hank's eyes, questioning

Hank explains. "It's - ah - it's not.. the mating season yet."

Connor thinks on this, and finds that all he can reply with is a coherent, comprehensive, "..Oh." He shifts his hips against Hank's. "But you can still-"

"Yeah."

Connor still has many MANY questions, but they're not ones that he needs to know right now.

Besides, he's still having his lesson in anatomy with Hank right now. They can continue the more general biology lesson later.

"But I can get you pregnant," Connor say again, arching his hips so they slide at that hidden slit along Hank's nether regions.

The merman's brow twitches, and Connor is ridiculously pleased when he feels the king's hips twitch in response at Connor's cock. "Yes.. Why do you-" then he pauses, and looks at Connor with a sparkling look of knowing in his eyes. "Do you.. like that?"

Connor whines, thrusts his hips to Hank's again, seeking that opening Hank has yet to bare to him. "Nnh, you mean do I like the thought of fucking and filling you up?" One of his hands goes to delve beneath the water to touch and knead at Hank's soft belly. "Watching you get big, showing the claim I have on you as you grow with our child?"

"Fucking Triton," Hank laughs, breathless as he holds Connor. "You're a filthy one, aren't you?"

Connor whimpers, and nods. "You're so big, Hank. I love your stomach." He presses against the soft give of his belly.

"Your muscles and strength-" he presses flat palms to Hank's pectorals, drags his hands over the nipples as he cups Hank's soft chest. The merman groans beneath the touch. "So beautiful," he croons.

"Fucking hell," Hank moans, sinking a bit into the water as his head tilts back.

Against his cock, Connor feels Hank's slit clench, then open a bit more, like it's getting ready for him.

"Hm," Connor hums. His hand at Hank's stomach slides down, down, hovers right above the opening. He looks at Hank, waiting for permission.

Hank moans with gritted teeth, suddenly impatient himself as he grabs Connor's wrist and guides him to where he wants the human to touch.

Connor laughs. "That answers that," he says, echoing what Hank said earlier. He slips the tips of his fingers up and down the slit, about the length of his palm. The scales are smaller at the edges, giving way to soft flesh the color of moonstone. "You want this as much as I do?" he asks Hank, grinning devilishly to his lover.

"Fuck, yes, Connor-"

A small bit of laughter escapes Connor, and he starts to press his fingers into the slit. Slowly at first, and just a little bit at a time.

Connor isn't sure how to describe it, at least not scientifically. It's hot, it's warm, and the further he advances two of his fingers, the more Hank clenches around him.

The merman in question cries out when Connor gets knuckle-deep into the merman, and wiggles his fingers experimentally.

"FUCK! Connor!"

"Is this okay?" Connor asks, halting his movements.

"Ye-es! Shit! Please!"

Connor can't help the smirk that goes up one side of his face. "A king begging. That's something I've never been able to do before."

Hank laughs, grins like a shark as he looks at Connor with a glint in his eye. "That's good new for me, then. Means you haven't fucked any other kings."

Connor snickers at that, ducks his head to laugh as he curls his fingers, urging another weak moan of pleasure from the merman

The king arches his back, teeth grit, and Connor leans forward to kiss the corner of his lover's mouth. "No need to restrain yourself, my king," he croons with a crick of his fingers. The merman jolts beneath him. "I want to hear you."

"Mnnnfgh, Connor-"

The human hums, feeling the slick smoothness and bumps deep inside of Hank with the delicate pads of his fingers. He isn't sure what he's feeling for, but he takes a deep-seated pleasure in how it makes Hank writhe.

"Con- Fuck-"

"That's kind of the point," he teases, earning a dirty look from Hank.

"Always knew humans were a menace," Hank grumbles, thrusting himself lower over Connor's fingers, gasping from the touch.

Con only grins in response, pauses for a moment as he feels something slick and soft, spongy along the lower walls of Hank. The merman must sense his confusion, because he beams when whatever Connor feels rises up and twitches against his fingers.

Connor startles a bit in response, stares at Hank with wide eyes. "What .. the FUCK is that?!"

Hank grins, arching himself so the tip of it touches Connor's fingertips. "My cock," he answers with a grin.

Connor's face immediately burns beet-red, and his eyes widen. He experimentally pushes back against it, sending Hank into another groan, his heavy hands holding so tight to Connor's shoulders he's sure they'll bruise.

"Fascinating," the human murmurs. He leans forward to kiss the corner of Hank's mouth as he gives his fingers another experimental wiggle inside of the merman. "Something we'll have to explore later."

Hank moans, the sound weak, and he nods. His eyes are hazy and distant, unfocused from the attention his human is giving him.

"Do you think you're ready?" Connor asks as he starts to withdraw his fingers.

Hank nods, breathing heavy, and when Connor's fingers slide from him he sighs, the sound shaky. "Yes," he says, and his hands curl at the nape of Connor's neck, tugging at the shorter strands. He arcs himself against Connor, seeking his lover's cock. "I'm ready for you. Con, please-"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," Connor purrs, a bit breathless himself. His hand goes to grab his own cock, flushed and hard. He groans a bit under his breath when the tip brushes at the slick scales. He feels the slight give where Hank's opening is, but before he can start pushing in, Hank breathes, "Wait," and places a hand over Connor's.

The human pauses, looks to Hank curiously. "What is it, love?" he asks, worried he's pushing too far, or too fast.

Hank gazes at the human, eyes hooded, blue orbs burning with lust. "Do you swear yourself to me?" he asks, voice heavy.

Connor blinks, unsure of what Hank is leading to, but knows the answer deep in his heart. "Of course," he says.

The merman touches the loose strand of hair along Connor's head, and he leans into the touch. His fingers stroke affectionately down the side of his face, lowering to the corner of Connor's jaw. "Do you swear fealty to me, as your king?"

Connor can sense it then in the air. The heady weight that is Hank's magic. It rolls familiar and comforting over him like an ever-beating wave of the ocean. Thick and suffocating in the best way, like trying to breathe in a heavy mist or push through water.

The words Hank asks of Connor holds weight, heavy and far more significant than Connor thinks he can begin to understand.

Connor doesn't have an inkling about magic and its intricacies, and he hopes it'll be one of the many things Hank will teach him about in the future. And he isn't sure exactly what Hank is trying to accomplish in this moment with him.

But he knows Hank.

He TRUSTS Hank.

So Connor curls one hand at the nape of Hank's neck, long and loose strands tickling against his fingers. He leans forward, reveling in the feel of his bare chest to the merman's.

And Connor doesn't know exactly what he's swearing to Hank. But he knows he wants it, and he knows that it's somehow important to Hank.

So he breathes in the scent of the ocean and the salty musk of his partner, and kisses the stubble at the merman's neck.

"I swear it," he vows with a light thrust up of his hips. "My loyalty to only you." He breathes the words right at Hank's ear, and is rewarded by Hank when he hears a gasp escape him. "My king."

Hank groans weakly, the magic Connor can sense in the air bursts and his lover grasps onto him like he's clinging on for dear life. Hank bows his head to touch his forehead to Connor's and down at their hips, there's a slight give at his opening. Hank pulls Connor impossibly closer, his harsh breathing urging Connor to do the same. Hands at Connor's hips tighten, and the human hopes distantly that they'll bruise.

"I accept your vow of loyalty," Hank rumbles deep in his throat. "And I swear to you my own. That as long as you remain as one of my own, you shall have nothing to fear from me and my people."

Connor can hardly make heads or tails of it, but the emotion in Hank's voice causes tears to spring from his eyes. He can't hold off for another moment, and leans forward to kiss Hank deeply, overwhelmed with emotions he can't quite place.

He feels the need to reciprocate what Hank said, and he parts far enough so that his lips brush against the king's with every word. "I accept," he swears.

Hank closes his eyes, akin to something like relief as he sighs. He moves one of his hands at Connor's hip to his front, where he teases his opening with light touches up and down, non-subtly brushing his fingers at Connor's cock as he does. "Then claim what belongs to you, my little prince, he breathes.

Connor shudders from those words, a spike of arousal causing his over-excited cock to throb with want. "As my king wants," he sighs, and finally pushes slowly into Hank's tight and throbbing heat.

Both men immediately groan from the feeling of Connor filling Hank. "Fuck," Hank whimpers, body trembling. Connor goes in slowly, inch by inch until he's buried to the root deep in Hank.

"Gods," Connor breathes, and lets his head fall on Hank's shoulder. "Hank," he moans. The walls holding fast around his cock throb and clench, like they're trying to pull him in even deeper. He whines, and feels a rush of shame at sounding like some kind of spoiled child. His arms find purchase at Hank's neck, straggling for some kind of stability as he does a tentative flex of his hips flush to Hank's. "You feel so good," he says.

"God, you do too, baby," Hank growls, eyelashes fluttering from the slight movements from Connor. He moans through gritted teeth, and when Connor shoots him a questioning glance, the merman nods him ahead. "Keep going - fuck - please. More."

Connor can oblige him this easily, and he smiles, shifting his hips to pull out a bit slightly before pushing steadily back into Hank.

His partner is vocal, delightfully so, and he snaps his hands at Connor's shoulders to hold on for stability. He rides out the pleasure of Connor dragging his cock along the deepest part of him, and relishes in the sounds Connor makes in turn.

"Perfect, honey," Hank praises him; Connor trembles in response. "So good~ can feel you so deep in me."

"Haa-ank-" Connor whines, his composure slipping from the honeyed words Hank coats over him.

"Such a good boy, doing as his king tells him to," Hank strangles, struggling for breath. He guides Connor's thrusts with one hand at his hip, and the human is eager to comply, quickening or lengthening his strokes deep into Hank or changing the movements.

Hank's walls tighten the more Connor thrusts in and out of him. The head of his cock brushes teasingly at every nerve, and Hank trembles in pleasure as it strokes that spot that makes him see stars.

Connor shakes around Hank, and makes a powerful thrust of his hips, hitting some part of Hank that makes the merman jolt. Fingernails dig into the skin at Connor's back, and he groans, tightening his hold onto Hank and increasing the speed of his thrusts.

"Yes!" Hank gasps, his head tilted back. He tries to meet Connor's movements, but they're more stinted compared to the quick, rabbit-like movements of his partner.

"Keep talking, Hank," Connor begs in-between strokes. "I-I love-" his voice cuts off as the merman intentionally clenches hard around him.

Hank laughs, but it's weak with pleasure, "Oh yeah- you like the sound of my voice, baby?"

Connor nods against Hank's neck, his thrusts speeding up and starting to lose their rhythm. "Yes, Hank, gods-"

"No gods here, just me," Hank says with a breathless laugh, and kisses the column of Connor's throat reverently. Large fingers span across the human's neck, and he growls low in his throat, "And is that any way to ask your king, boy?"

Connor jolts, and Hank squeezes his ass, urging the human to go harder. The human whines above him, and obeys. "Please, Your Majesty, keep talking. I want- I want to hear you."

Hank hums, pleased, and pulls Connor closer so he can growl lovingly into Connor's ear. "You're so good for me, Connor, my angel.. my prince. Your cock feels so good in me, filling me up, claiming me-" Hank's words cut off from a particularly strong thrust from Connor, who's dizzy with pleasure. And from the tightening he can feel building, he knows he's getting close.

"Hank- Your Majesty, my king- please, please, Hank I'm so close, fuck- please-"

"You sound so nice, honey," Hank purrs, somehow managing to keep his voice steady, if not for the slight hitch in his voice. He pulls a hand through Con's hair, tugging light. "Such a beautiful voice; I expect nothing less from my angel."

Connor whines, his thrusts turning shallow the closer he gets to falling off that precipice. "Ha-ank-!"

"You gonna come, sweetheart?"

"Yes-!" Connor's hips stutter, stars flashing behind his eyes. "Hank - please!"

Connor can only dimly hear Hank's wisp of laughter in the back of his mind, accompanied by the sound of their joining, a quick splashing between them.

Hank breaths are light and quick, and he leans forward to brush his lips at Connor's neck. "Go on, my prince," he says, and some dim part of Connor's mind processes it as an order. Hank's walls tighten around Connor's throbbing manhood. "Come in me."

The accompanying flare of pain at Connor's neck is what finally triggers Connor's release. An uncontrollable groan escapes him, his vision going white for a few seconds while his semen comes out in spurts deep into the merking. He hears him cry out Hank's name, and it turns into a whimper while Hank thrusts to take Connor deeper, control of his voice slipping. "Aw yeah baby, give it all to me, come on, yes, fuck."

That's when Connor feels Hank come around him. There's a clench that tightens impossibly hard over Connor, eliciting another gasp and a moan from him while he grabs desperately onto Hank's broad shoulders. "FUCK!" he exclaims, shaking. The merman's tunnel flexes rhythmically along Connor's cock, milking him for every bit of spend he has.

Hank's orgasm seems softer, but no less powerful if the clench and snap of his body is anything to go by. His hands dig into Connor's body, and he pushes his slit as far along Connor's cock as he can.

They remain close and clinging to each other for an indeterminate amount of time. And despite the chill of the lagoon, Connor feels seething hot in the arms of his king.

A loving kiss from the king brings a giggling question to his lips, prompted by the affectionate action. "Did you bite me?" he asks with a smile. One hand goes up to his neck where Hank kissed him, and feels the surefire feel of small indents where Hank's teeth marks are.

"Was that okay?" Hank clarifies, worry in his voice.

"It was fine," Connor says with a grin, and nestles deeper in his lover's arms. Hank holds him close, the human still buried in the merman's clenching heat. As Connor shifts the angle and position of his hips, testing the softness of his cock, there's a questioning tug from Hank.

"You didn't knot?" he asks, curious and clarifying. Not a bit of judgment in his voice.

Connor looks at Hank oddly before he puts two and two together. "Um, we don't - humans don't.. have that."

Hank's eyes widen, both beings clearly perplexed by the strangeness of each other. "..Oh.." Hank draws out, and Connor distantly anticipates that'll be something fun he gets to experience next time he and Hank do this.

"That's okay?" he asks, unable to stop the worry that he's lacking something he can't provide for Hank.

"It's more than okay," Hank reassures at once with a tender hand along Connor's brow. "I love all of you, especially the differences we share."

Connor isn't entirely sure, but Hank's open-mouthed kiss at Connor's lips is enough to quell any building anxieties. The human leans into the kiss, and tongues at the slight gap between Hank's two front teeth.

The merman laughs, leans back to hold onto Connor's hips. "You're a menace," he says with a grin, and steals another kiss from his lover.

They hold each other close, and finally, Connor slips his cock from Hank's fluttering walls. Both sigh languidly at the parting, and Connor looks between them to see the milky substance that leaks from his cock and from Hank's opening.

Connor hums, and his hand drifts beneath the surface of the water to slide the side of his finger along the length of Hank's slit. The merman reflexively gasps, and Connor sees how it flutters for him.

He smiles to himself, pleased that he can drive such a reaction from Hank's body, but he stops when Hank places a gentle hand at his wrist.

"A bit oversensitive there, honey," Hank says with a soft laugh.

"Sorry," Connor replies, and withdraws his hand to instead rest it at Hank's shoulder, but can't bite back his smile. "Your Majesty."

Hank laughs, goes to hold the back of Connor's head with the span of his hand. "My prince."

They cradle each other; Connor keeps his legs wrapped loosely at Hank's hips, and the merman lounges the both of them back in the still water so the human rests on his chest.

"I feel like a baby otter," Connor mutters.

"A cute baby otter," Hank teases, booping Connor's nose.

The human wrinkles his nose, but smiles, and nestles his face against the damp curls at Hank's chest.

Quiet falls between them, relishing in the sounds of the water against the shore, the whisper in the trees and the cries of animals deep in the jungle on the island. Above, the half-moon and stars witness their embrace and the love shared between them.

"Hank," Connor murmurs after a small amount of time has passed.

"Hm?" Hank hums, absently running his fingers through Connor's hair. He splashes them lazily around the lagoon, and Connor can see starlight reflecting in the blue pools of his eyes.

Curiosity trickles through Connor's mind. "Tell me the significance of what we said earlier."

Hank is quiet, but Connor knows he catches what he means when his hand pauses for a second in his stroking along Connor's head.

Connor urges the merman gently. "We belong to each other now, right?" His fingers twine through Hank's chest hairs. He kisses the top of the merman's sternum. "I could feel your magic. Tell me what it means."

Whatever Connor said, it gives Hank pause. "You could feel it?" he echoes.

Connor tilts his head to look at Hank's stare, the man's eyes wide. "Yes?" he says, a question in his tone. He blinks, frowning.

"Ever since the first day I saw you - you blew on a conch shell to make it sound out for a little girl."

Hank laughs, lets his head fall back into the water, and he brings one hand up to push his hair back. "Gods," he breathes, shaky, but smiling so wide, and he settles his hand to the small at Connor's back.

He doesn't make Connor wait long, wide doe-brown eyes waiting, and he says, "Words of bonding, yes. Swore to each other in loyalty with bits of magic." Hank pauses, considerate. "I suppose that isn't something often used in the human world, is it?"

Connor smiles against his skin, amused by Hank's apparent forgetfulness that he and all humans lack any form of magic. "The closest comparison I have is vows we give in marriage ceremonies. Swear to be true to the other person and all that."

Hank frowns, confused. Connor tries not to be distracted by the feeling of Hank running his hand in soothing circles at Connor's back. "Then how is it sealed, if not with magic?"

"We exchange rings. It's different for other groups of humans, though. That's just what my human culture does."

Hank chews the inside of one cheek, thoughtful. "Are they made of any particular material?"

Connor absently draws circles along the top of Hank's chest with one lazy finger. A thin surface of water runs up and along Hank's body. "Mm," he hums, "Usually gold or silver. Some kind of precious metal."

Hank stays quiet, seeming to absorb this information, and Connor taps his sternum to bring him back to attention. "So, are we basically married now?" he asks. "At least in the eyes of your people?"

The king chuckles at how Connor puts it, lovingly strokes one hand at Connor's head. "Bonded, is the word we use for it. Swore to each other and no one else."

Connor hums, and something subsequently warm passes through his chest. He rests his head just beneath Hank's chin, wishing he could press himself further into his lover. "I like the sound of that," he decides. "And you're sure your people won't mind that you've .. bonded with a human?"

Hank places a whiskery kiss to the top of Connor's head. "You're my match, my angel, Connor," he reassures. "There's nothing to worry about from them. And I think they rather approve of you.

Connor can't keep his smile down, and he curls back into Hank's strong arms.

"I love you," he says.

A deep and pleasant laugh from Hank. A hand lightly pulling through Connor's hair. "I love you too, my prince."

A pleased tremor passes through Connor, and he closes his eyes.


	7. Bound

In the end, Hank turns out to be right when they break the news to the rest of the merpeople. Not a sour face in sight. Most of them in fact beam, and the adults come to congratulate Connor in person while the children giggle. One of the merpeople Connor knows by name, a sweet mother named Kara, tells how happy she is for Connor and for the king.

"It's been so long since we've seen our king that happy," she tells Connor in her own tongue, the sounds warm and warbling. She looks up at Connor with wide and blinking eyes, then over to Hank. Connor tracks her gaze to his Bonded, and feels the bright burst of love in his gut that he always feels when he looks at Hank.

The king smiles, thanking other well-wishers for their support. He must feel Connor's eyes on him, because he tilts his head just to one side so he can lock eyes with his Bonded, and crack a teasing but warm smile directed just to him.

Connor's face warms, and he ducks his head, stomach fluttering.

Later in the day, when the sun is just beginning its descent into the sky, Connor sits alongside Hank on a sun-warmed rock at the edge of the lagoon. The heat of the sun and the nearness of his lover keeps Connor warm down to his bones, and he leans against Hank, twining their fingers together. Not a word passes between them; they simply relish in the nearness of each other. Hank keeps his protective gaze at the waters, scanning for any signs of danger and keeping track of the children, but the teasing touch of his fingers along Connor's knuckles sends fluttering smiles up Connor's face.

"I have something to give you later," Hank rumbles, the depth of his voice causing Connor to startle slightly from the disrupted quiet. He lifts his head against Hank's shoulder to try to find answers in his lover's gaze, but finds none.

When Hank doesn't offer any further details, just keeps his stoic expression pressed forward, Connor knows what he wants to do.

He taps the back of Hank's hand, drawing his lover's attention to him with a questioning glance in his eyes. Connor makes sure to keep his voice flat and expression totally blank as he says to Hank, "Your cock doesn't count as a present, Hank."

It works; Hank releases a sputtered breath, face turning bright red and a grin splitting the stoic expression. "Fffblgh-! Connor!" he admonishes, voice hushed and scandalized. He flicks a large finger at Connor's, and the human giggles, pleased he was able to get a reaction from him. "Not that!" Hank says, and laughs soft. "A present, like an actual present."

Connor grins, and leans his shoulder back into Hank's. "You're sweet, Hank."

His eyelashes flutter, so warm and content he might be about to fall asleep where he is, when he feels Hank's hand slide around his waist. His fingertips tickle the exposed bit of skin, and then Connor feels the brush of Hank's beard at the side of his face and a growl in his ear.

"But I'm sure the other part can be arranged, too. If that's what you want."

Connor turns bright red, and before he can reply, Hank's slipped back into the water a grin tossed over his shoulder before he's dived back into the lagoon, disappearing from sight.

\--

When all the merpeople have left for the night, Connor and Hank curl up together on a flat expanse of rock. A fire at Connor's back keeps him warm in the cool of the night, and in front, Hank curls a finger absently through his hair.

"Are you ready for your present, Bonded?" Hank asks, soft.

Connor blinks, "I almost forgot about it. He tilts his head up to look at Hank, caught enraptured by the blue of his king's eyes.

He smiles, loving, and rolls over to stretch a hand to the lagoon water.

Hank's frame blocks Connor from seeing what's going on, so he lifts himself up on his elbows to see what Hank is doing.

The merking has stretched his hand into the rippling lagoon. And as soon as he touched the water, light burst from it, bright and white, almost blinding. The water swirled in a circular motion, bubbling and singing.

At the forefront of his mind, Connor could detect the telltale flashes that was Hank's magic. Warm, comforting, and familiar. As sparkling blue as the ocean and as playful as the waves.

Then it's gone. The light dims, and Hank withdraws his hand from the water, fist clenched.

Connor leans back, watching with wide eyes and bated breath. Hank adjusts where he is, sitting up as best he can with his tail dipping into the water.

Seawater drips from Hank's hands, and he just stares at his enclosed fist. Connor waits, his heart pounding. "..Hank?" he asks, voice hoarse.

Hank huffs out a breath, the sound shaky. "Sorry," he says. "I don't know why I.. I'm just nervous. I-um." He blushes, and looks away. The fins along his tail flare a bit, and his tail shifts- signs Connor recognizes as Hank's nervous tells. Hank looks at Connor from beneath his eyelashes. "I wanted to do something for you. Something that... that you can connect to as a human. And.. something I can embrace too." A smile goes up one side of his face. "You were so willing to learn everything about me and my culture; it's only fair I try to do the same."

Connor's heart pounds, his throat clogging as he leans forward just slightly. He opens his mouth, intent on saying something to ease whatever feelings of guilt Hank might bear, but then the merman's fist opens, and all Connor can do is gasp.

In his Bonded's hand, there sits two matching rings. They look the same but vastly different.

They look like spun glass, clear and wavy with hints of blue and spots that could be tiny bubbles. As if Hank took two little bits of the ocean and formed them into rings.

"Hank-!" Connor breathes, and cups a hand over his mouth. He looks fast from his love back to the rings, love rising and swelling in his chest. "You- you-"

Hank looks slightly abashed, and his head ducks in embarrassment. "..In the eyes of my people, we have claimed each other as Bonded, but there wasn't anything to let other humans know that you already belong to someone. And I- I wanted to do this for you."

"Oh, Hank-" Connor sighs, and places a hand over his rapidly beating heart. His smile could nearly split his face in two, and he can't help but let out a huff of bemused laughter.

"You're kind of a jealous/possessive type aren't you?"

Hank looks abashed, though only just slightly. "Shut up," he mutters, slaps his tail half-heartedly against the water. "You know you don't /belong/ to me, I just-"

"Hank, I'm teasing you."

The merman looks miffed from that but Connor gets his comeuppance for his teasing when his Bonded lashes his tail to send a spray of saltwater across his back.

"Hank!" he squeals, laughing and throwing his hands up in meager defense. "Okay, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Hank grunts, and mutters with a playful smile, "Well if you didn't want the rings, you could have just said so-" and he starts to slide back toward the water, hands closing back over the rings.

"No no no noooo! Ha-ank!" Connor begs, grabbing onto Hank's arms and keeping him from slipping away, though he knows Hank is just having fun. He manages to wrangle his beloved back onto the rock, who grins as Connor keeps hold of him by holding onto his wrists. "I want them! I really want them."

Hank smiles to himself, and can't stop from leaning forward to kiss Connor, his lips soft and pliant. There's a grin against Connor's mouth, and he sighs into Hank, the sound melodious.

"So.. how does this work, exactly?" Hank finally asks when they part a handful of moments later. Both look down at the rings cradled in the palm of his hand, and Connor admires them further.

They're both of similar style with the sea-like whorls of blue and white like the swirl of the ocean, though one is more blue than the other.

"Well," Connor starts. "Usually one person is on one knee while proposing."

Hank looks confused at that, and looks absently at the curve of his tail.

"We can skip that," Connor says with a laugh, and gives a reassuring squeeze at the curve of Hank's tail where his thigh would be if he were human. "But uhm, usually we place the rings on each other's finger. The fourth finger of the left hand." Connor shows Hank with his own.

Hank looks to the rings again, taking this in, then looks back to Connor. "So which one do you want?"

Connor blinks. "Did you make one specifically in mind for me?" He doesn't want to offend Hank.

Hank's expression softens even more, his smile turning gentle as his voice lowers to a sweet purr. "They are both for you, Bonded, for they represent both of us. You will always carry a bit of myself while I will hold a piece of you." Hank leans forward enough to kiss at Connor's brow. "Choose the prettiest one that calls to you, my love."

Connor fights to blink away heartfelt tears, and nods, picking up both rings to inspect them thoughtfully.

The one that truly catches his eye is the more blue-heavy one. It looks like the waters of the lagoon in the middle of the day, bright cerulean blue with bursts of white that could be the cresting of a wave or a swath of bubbles. Deep in the teal are bits of green, like traces of seaweed deep under the water.

The other is more green and white than blue, though there's bits of it there, too. When Connor looks closely, he can see traces of pink and yellow, like bits of coral hidden beneath the surface of their lagoon.

Connor understands what Hank meant when he said that the rings are a part of him. He can feel a pull to both beautiful bands, like little pieces of the ocean pieced together just for him to wear on his finger.

"They're both so beautiful, Hank," he murmurs, tracing the soft glass-like edges of the rings. When he touches them, he swears he can hear a high, soft, and gentle singing in the back of his mind.

Hank traces a single finger down Connor's jawline. "There is no wrong choice, my love. Choose whichever one calls to you." Hank chuckles, "Though I'm glad to hear you find both pleasing."

Connor flips and flops between the two of them, but finally lingers over the blue one, bright teal that sparkles.

"This one," he says at last. "I don't think it's as pretty as the other one, but.." he bites his lip, fighting a smile. "It makes me think of you. The color of your scales in the sunlight, or the shade of your eyes." His heart clenches. "And it feels like your magic. Wild and restless like the waves but steady and as deep as the sea."

Hank breathes out an amused breath of air. "It's funny you say that," he says. "I think the other one is prettier, too, so I thought you would choose it." The merman touches a large and beefy finger at the ring, and a reflection from the sun causes Connor to see a flicker of pink. "Though this one makes me think of you," Hank admits with a smile. "So I suppose it's fitting we would choose rings that remind us of each other."

Connor might cry. He bites his lip, heart beating so quick and strong against his chest, and he holds out his left hand. "Will you put it on me, then, husband?"

Hank smiles, and reaches down to pick up the ring chosen by Connor. He slips it over Connor's offered finger, and when it fits perfectly, the human knows magic was used.

Connor takes a moment to admire the beauty and sparkle of the ring at his finger, how beautifully the spun blue looks against the pale bit of his skin. Then he turns to Hank and slides the ring onto his ring finger. The bright color is a nice contrast to Hank's rough and darker skin, and Connor admires the pretty ring at his Bonded's finger.

"Thank you, husband," Connor says, and at Hank's returning smile, leans forward to seal the marriage with a kiss.

"Husband - I like the sound of that," Hank says, cupping his ringed hand to the side of Connor's face so he can twine his fingers through his hair. "Is there anything else related to this human culture of marriage you want to practice?"

Connor thinks on how Hank had him choose which ring he wanted, how usually rings are simply /presented/ to whoever's getting proposed to. But Connor thinks that despite that, he likes this new tradition started by them.

"Well," he says with a smile, returning the kiss with a firm press of his lips to Hank's. "In my culture, after a wedding where two people are married, the wedded couple eventually leave so they can consummate their marriage."

It takes a moment for Hank to fit the pieces together, and when he gets it, he barks out a breath of laughter. "Gods above and below," he says, eyes shining as he kisses the corner of Connor's mouth, who presses back to him, hungry for more affection. "You're truly insatiable, aren't you?"

"Hey, need I remind you that YOU proposed to ME, King Henry," Connor says with a devilish grin. "We have the rings and everything. No backing out, now."

Hank laughs, and begins his descent back into the water, where Connor follows willingly after shedding what little clothes he had on. "Well, I guess we better get to it then, husband," Hank says, smiling at the human word of endearment. Connor slips into the waters, going at once into Hank's open and loving embrace. "I can't keep my lover wanting and waiting, can I?"

"That would be terrible," Connor agrees with his arms looped at Hank's neck. He buries his head into Hank's shoulder, taking a moment to simply enjoy being in Hank's arms. At his neck, he feels his husband press a kiss to the exposed part where Hank made his claiming bite at that very first night.

Hank runs his hands along Connor's sides, up to his ribs, preoccupied with touching Connor. But then he stills when he hears his Bonded's words soft in his ear.

"I love you, Hank."

Quiet for a moment, and then a whiskery kiss to Connor's cheek, sweet and loving.

"I love you too, my prince."


	8. Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cw for near-character death! violence!

By all accounts, Connor is surprised it took this long for it to happen.

He was living off in the middle of a jungle island in the name of science, as far as his family and cohorts were concerned. So it was only a matter of time before someone came to check on him. Make sure he wasn't dead.

What he didn't expect was that it would be his mother's slimiest, cruelest pawn.

Connor had known Perkins as a child, and even then he could sense that the man had a mean streak. On more than one occasion he had seen the man kick dogs that were in his way, or backhand servants that didn't do exactly as he requested the /moment/ he requested it.

So as a kid, Connor made all attempts to avoid him.

He wasn't always successful, though, especially when he grew into young adulthood. His growing success into the sciences apparent to all,Perkins had attempted to sidle in on some of Connor's thriving. Attempted to court him more than once, to which Connor always adamantly refused. Perkins was enraged with every 'no' and he would swear at Connor, say it was only a matter of time before he said 'yes'.

Connor never did. And while he knew Perkins would never try anything, not when Connor was within an arm's reach of Amanda, he made it a habit to take one of his triplets Silas or Niles with him when he knew Perkins would be nearby. The three of them were trained in hand-to-hand combat ever since they were children (Amanda had required it; she wanted them to be able to protect themselves), and Connor always felt monumentally safer when his siblings were close.

But now he was an adult, exposed out in the middle of the jungle. And Silas and Niles might as well have been on another planet.

"Connor, your mother has sent us to retrieve you," Perkins said, flanked by some of his own men.

They stood on the beach at the lagoon where Connor had made camp. It was early morning, the sun barely peeking out over the horizon, casting the sky into a vibrant and condemning shade of red-orange.

Connor frowns at Perkins, hands clenched lightly. He can't help but cross his arms defensively. "Well, tell mother I have no need to go home. I'm doing fine. My studies are progressing excellently."

Perkins nods, "And I'm glad to hear that, but your mother requires you to come in at once."

Connor raises a skeptical brow. "Oh really. And on what grounds?"

The slimy snake shakes his head, falsely clueless. "I don't have any idea. She wouldn't tell me."

The scientist narrows his eyes. "Well, that's not enough for me. I'm not going."

He can see the twitch of Perkin's brows, and Connor knows he's got him.

Because Connor may have been away from his family for MONTHS, but he knows his mother.

Amanda is cool and distant. Strict and stern as her name. She's always wanted the best for her three hellion triplets. Always pushed for them to be the best.

And while she looked coolly at Connor's pursuit into the field of science, she always supported him through it. Took pride in his own accomplishments. Was always proud of his independence.

And as a young adult, Connor had insisted how horrible Perkins was. While she wouldn't dismiss the man as a business partner, she always guaranteed Connor that she would never place them in the same room unless one of his brothers was there with him.

Connor loved her for that.

And it was also why he didn't believe a damn thing Perkins was saying.

"How do you know?" Perkins asked, with grit teeth.

"Know what?" Connor asked with an innocent tilt of his head.

Perkins lifted his lips in an imitation of a snarl, "You're coming with me, Connor."

The man lowered his own brows, stern and heavy with authority. "No," he said. "I'm not."

Quiet persisted between the two opposing parties, and for a blessed moment, Connor thought Perkins would leave.

The moment didn't last.

"Get him."

The men at Perkin's back surged forward.

Connor made a feeble attempt to flee, but there was too little distance between him and Perkins' men, and not nearly enough time for him to get away to somewhere safe.

As one of the men tackled Connor into the surf, he could hear Perkins laughing.

"You fool! Why did you run toward the ocean? Think you were just going to swim to safety? Get picked up by a porpoise and taken to Atlantis?" He guffaws, and Connor feels hot tears of rage brimming from his eyes.

He fights against the men holding him down and heaving him towards the beach, but even with his renewed strength from living on the island, he's no match for two men that probably weigh twice as much as he does on their own.

They drop Connor on the sand, and the grains automatically cling to his skin and wet clothes. He tries to prop himself up, his hands bracing himself, but a well-placed boot at the center of his back pushes him back to the ground.

Connor groans, and spits out a mouthful of sand.

From the laugh above him, he knows it's Perkins keeping him down. "Go through his stuff. Bring me anything worth keeping."

"Fuck you!" Connor spits, tries to writhe in place. If he can't escape he wants to at least be a nuisance to his captors.

Perkins snickers, and presses his foot harder against Connor's back. "That's enough out of you." 

Connor is helpless as he watches Perkins' men toss his papers around and go through all his supplies. He tries to fight and push Perkins off as best he can, but there's only so much he can do when he's pinned beneath his full weight.

"Uh, boss?" one of the men call tentatively from Connor's tent. "Got something you might want to see."

The scientist attempts to lift his head, and a cold chill like ice water goes down his back.

In his hand, the man hold Connor's sketchbook. As he approaches Perkins, who holds his hand out, Connor sees a glimpse of the page.

Hank. The drawings he's been working on since he got here.

He doesn't know why it should matter. He can just say they're drawings he made up while staying here.

It strikes something with Perkins, though, and Connor can feel it in the way the boot at his back grows tense.

There's a heavy, palpable quiet. Then before Connor can comprehend it, a beefy hand snags his collar and heaves him up to his knees. Thrusts the drawing into his face. "You've seen him?!"

Connor frowns, voice raspy from being pressed into the ground for so long. "What?" he coughs, frowns.

Perkins growls, latches his hand into Connor's hair and yanks at it. Pain needles through his scalp, and he cries out. "The fuckin' mermaid! You've seen him! Where?!"

Connor makes a weak shake of his head. "Don't know what you're talking about. I-" he coughs, "I drew those. Made 'em up."

How does Perkins-?

"Bullshit!" he snarls in Connor's face. "I know you've seen him where is the fucker?!"

Connor shakes his head, "You're crazy," he rasps. "It's just a drawing."

And then it connects. He sees in his mind's eye the streak of red across Hank's abdomen. Words spoken to him on the beach about the person who hurt him, nearly harpooned him in the gut.

Fuck.

Connor isn't able to hide the surprise on his face when he puts it together. "You're the-" and then he cuts himself off, driven by a need to protect.

"WHERE IS HE?!" Perkins roars, pulling at Connor's scalp with his hand fisted in his hair.

"You're insane," Connor growls back, just as fierce.

Perkins stares him down, rage flaring in his gaze. "If you don't tell me, we'll beat it out of you."

Connor looks at Perkins like he's nothing. Like he's less than the dirt beneath his feet.

The man sneers. "We'll do worse than beat it out of you. All you have to do is tell us where the merman is."

Connor blinks, his gaze carefully blank, and then he smirks.

"Fuck you."

Knuckles crack across his cheekbone, and his head reels to the side. Then claps at the side of his head. His ear starts ringing, and he knows from the aching at the center of his face that his nose is probably broken. When a fist slams into the other side of his face, he can taste the metallic tint of blood in his mouth and feels the split lip.

But despite the beatings that start to descend on him, Connors smiles.

Because Hank is safe.

Connor does what he can to block from his mind what's happening to his body as the men descend upon him. He grounds himself in the feel of his ring at his finger, and loses himself in the memory of yesterday.

\--

"You're leaving?" Connor asked Hank, hurt and aching. They sat at their usual rock twined around each other. Connor had his legs resting over Hank's tail, while the merman leaned so his arm rested behind Connor's back, caging him in. "But - you're coming back, right?"

"Of course, beloved," Hank murmured, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Connor's in reassurance. "It's only for a season. We'll be migrating to the breeding grounds. We go every year at about this time, but then we return."

Connor whimpers, twines his fingers with Hank's. "I wish I could go with you."

"I know, starfish," Hank murmurs. He lovingly kisses the spot between Connor's brows. "And one day you will. Or when I've retired from the crown I'll stay with you instead of going."

Connor has to admit, the thought of spending the whole season long with Hank all to himself is appealing, and it makes him blush. "That wouldn't hurt you, though? To stay instead of go?"

Hank shakes his head. "No, I'd be with my Bonded." He combs a hand affectionately through Connor's locks of hair. "If anything it'll hurt me more to be parted from you during this season while we're away."

Connor's heart warms at that. "I'll miss you too."

"It won't be for long, my love. Though I'll think of you every day."

Connor sighs, and presses his head further into Hank's touch. He waits for a moment before asking a halting question, feeling a bit awkward. "So.. breeding grounds, huh? I'm not going to have to compete with anyone for you, will I?"

Hank does a full-belly laugh, slides his hand low at Connor's bare waist to tug him close. "With you, husband, there's no competition. This merman is faithful to his only Bonded, and it's going to stay that way."

Connor turns a bit more red, embarrassed by the question, albeit pleased by Hank's answer. "Well even if it was a competition, I'd win."

"Of course, my Bonded," Hank purrs, kissing the corner of Connor's jaw.

After another handful of moments simply relishing their closeness, Connor shifts, another question nitpicking his mind. "So.. is there any chance that.. we could.. with the..?"

Hank looks at Connor, plainly confused, though somewhat amused by Connor's stunted question. "Ask what is on your mind, love."

Connor goes with what his husband suggests and just bites the bullet. "Is there any chance we could have a child?"

A flicker of a smile passes at one end of Hank's mouth, though there's a layer of sadness to it. "Not this season, unfortunately. It's still too early. But-" he bites his lip, and now it's the king's term to look embarrassed, "but is it something that you're.. interested in?"

Connor's heart pounds high in his throat. "Um, yes, I think so. Would - uh- would you?"

Hank blinks, and looks thoughtful. He shifts his tail lazily. "I-Maybe not at once. I would need some time to prepare. But.. I-I would."

The human bites his lip and leans forward. He hunches his shoulders together, feeling impossibly warm. "I think I'd like that," he says, and lets a hand go to Hank's stomach. Brushes his fingers along the pale gray hairs, feels the pliant flesh beneath his fingers. So big and solid and warm and /his/.

"Something to look forward to," Hank agrees. He curls a finger at Connor's chin, tilting his head up to seal a burning kiss at his mouth. "Maybe we can try next season."

The thought is thrilling to Connor, the idea that he and Hank could try for a child by this time next year. But it's just one of the many things he looks forward to spending the rest of his life with this beautiful, wonderful mer.

If only the happiness wasn't so short-lived.

\--

Connor distantly realizes as he comes to that he passed out during the middle of the beating. That the memory passing through his mind was a dream, sheltering him from the painful reality of what was really happening.

And as he comes to, it all comes crashing down again.

Along with the pain.

He can't feel his face.

Can't feel or move his limbs, either. He isn't sure that's because they're broken or maybe tied up. No way of knowing for sure.

Blood pounds in his ears and nose, aching, and it's hard to breathe.

He opens eyes that must surely be swollen, and blinks against the harsh brightness of the sun.

"You goddamn tease. You just /had/ to keep your damn mouth shut, didn't you?" he hears what is only Perkins from above him. A shadowy figure stands before him, though it's hard to make out with the sun right in his face. Perkins sighs, like this is all a terrible inconvenience. "Now I'm going to have to tell your family that you were eaten by beasts in the jungle, like the fool you are."

He leans back his foot to kick Connor hard in the side, and the scientist somehow manages to groan from the pain, his back curling protectively in a reflex that can only showcase the agony he's in.

"You're pathetic," Perkins goes on with a sneer. "All you have to do is tell us where that mermaid is and we'll leave you alone. We'll let you /live/. Why the hell would you be willing to do so much for something that isn't even human?"

Connor doesn't answer, and instead tries to ignore Perkins in general. He's focused elsewhere. Namely, he's paying attention to the beat of the surf tickling at his toes.

He curls his left arm close to his chest where his heart is. Feels the cool of the ring against his bruised sternum, and listens to the sound of his heart beating in time with the waves.

And he sends out his warning.

He sends out his desperation, his fear, his urgency that everything stay away from this lagoon for as long as possible. That's it's dangerous. That any mer would be putting themselves and all of merpeople at risk of exposure if they were to come here.

Connor is a human, yes, and not capable of magic. Not on his own.

But Connor is the Bonded of a King. And the power from his mate is part of him now, too.

He'll never be able to send out true waves of intention as Hank does. Not as powerful of signals or as clear, but he can do it enough that anything close by will pick up his warning and hopefully spread it to others.

Connor's outlook for his future at the lagoon diminishes more and more by the moment, but there's no reason other creatures should have to suffer as well at the hand of a man such as Perkins.

The signal he sends out through the waves is clipped, only because of his interrupted contact with the water. But he hopes it's enough.

And unfortunately, he also knows it's strong enough to reach Hank.

Hank, his beautiful, strong, powerful, loving, kind, generous, protective husband. His Bonded. His match, his mate.. His King.

As soon as Connor first hit the water when trying to escape from Perkins, he could feel the shake from the sea, could feel the storm of emotions from his husband as soon as he felt the fear emanating from Connor.

The sense of the ocean Connor had wasn't as poignant as Hank's was, but he knew his husband was feeling him crystal clear. Could sense Connor's terror, his urgency and  
desperation.

In return, Connor could feel the lingering hints in return from Hank. His confusion. His swell of worry at Connor's well-being, the anxious fretting that came with not knowing why Connor would feel such an overpowering sense of fear and despair.

Connor tries to warn Hank away, and send feeble reassurances that he'll be fine. Tries to hide how he knows it's a lie both to him and to Hank.

All that beats back in return is Hank's frantic worry and need to protect Connor. The desire to hold Connor, blanket him in safety. And when Connor doesn't return to it, he feels a strong pulse of Hank's determination to come back to him.

"No," Connor rasps out loud, mouth brushing against the sand. His fingers curl. "He'll kill you."

Besides. Hank is hundreds if not thousands of miles from here by now. Even if he were to  
get here, it would be too late.

"There's no point in risking your life for me, husband," Connor says in choked whispers. Tears trail down his face, making lines in his dusty skin. "Stay away, my Bonded, please."

He can feel Hank's rage and despair flare through him as poignantly as his own. A powerful tsunami of useless and aching want.

It's unjust. It's wrong. They shouldn't have to part like this, not when they've been so happy together.

At his left hand, Connor fingers the ring there, feels how it pulses in time with the heartbeat of the sea. With the heartbeat he shares with his King.

"I love you so much, Hank," he murmurs as hot tears trail down is face, the salt of them returning to the ocean. He chokes on a sob, hears Perkins' men talking like he's listening to them through water. Muddled and incoherent. Connor knows that as soon as he returns his attention back to them, he'll have to sever his connection with Hank. "I'm so glad I got to meet you - fall in love with you," he goes on, not even sure if he's speaking the words out loud, or if they're being sent out on the currents of the ocean to his husband. "I'd never trade it away for anything and everything else in the whole world."

He feels Hank's desperation, so far off but no less palpable. In his heart Connor knows there's nothing he can do to stop Hank from returning to him, and can only hope that Perkins and his men will be long gone by the time his Bonded returns to him.

"/Connor! No!/" he feels, the sound far-off in his chest, ringing in his ears. "Please!"

Connor knows he's crying now, listens to his own lungs and voice hitch with quiet sobs. "I'm sorry," he says. "Hank, Bonded, I'm so sorry."

He pulls himself away from the connection to Hank before he can feel his husband calling out for him across the ocean, and it only pulls another heartbroken sob from him. His limbs pull close to his body, and he tries to prop himself up on his elbows and knees, but finds he doesn't have the strength to.

As he comes back to the beach, his senses catch up to him, and he registers Perkin's low growl. "We can't chance him recovering and returning to his mother; we'd be caught and killed by his bastard brothers before we could unfurl our sails."

"The tall one gives me the creeps," one man says. "Never heard him say a word."

"Nah, I've seen the devil in the eyes of the other one. He's twisted."

"Regardless," Perkins snaps, drawing the attention of his men back to him. "He can never leave this island alive."

The implication of his words fall heavy.

\--cw for near-death!! violence! murder!!--

In the end, Perkins isn't the one that delivers the final blow to Connor. He assigns that job to one of his goons to do the dirty work for him. The man, who Connor can't see from where he lies down, is someone named Gavin. Connor hears the heavy metallic click of a gun being withdrawn, but he's immediately chided by Perkins for going to waste a bullet on an easy kill.

"It'd.. be the fastest way," Connor hears the man protest, the deflection confused and uncertain. "The most painless."

Perkins scoffs, accosts Gavin for being so tender-hearted. "He's not worth it. Put your gun away, slit his throat, and we can go. Just get it done, Gavin." There's a pregnant pause, and Perkins sneers. "Or don't. And stay here to die with him."

It takes a moment for Connor to know what the man's answer is when he hears the sound of footsteps along the sand nearing him.

And even now, on his deathbed, Connor feels immensely grateful to this man for wanting to give him a merciful and humane death.

"I'm sorry," Connor hears the man murmur as he falls to his knees at Connor's back. Strong but hesitant hands grab onto Connor's shoulder, turning him so he's lying on his side. It exposes the part of his neck where he knows is easiest to access his carotid artery. "Shit, any last prayers or something you'd like to do before-?"

Connor shakes his head in the sand, the small movement alone enough to send sharp spikes up pain up and down his bruised and battered body. "No," he rasps, clutching his left hand to the center of his chest where his heart is. "Just make it quick - please."

The man called Gavin huffs out a breath. "Yeah, fuck, I'll try." He's quiet for a moment, and when Connor tilts his head slightly to at least get a look at the man who's about to take his life, he meets eyes, as conflicted as the color of his stormy grey eyes.

Gavin is a ragged, handsome-looking man with dark and scuffy brown hair, and a rectangular jaw that's framed with stubble. His eyes are honed in on Connor's chest where his left hand is curled, something questioning and curious in his gaze. "You're married?" he asks, the question a hushed whisper, like it's a terrible secret.

Connor nods his head meekly, clutching the ring close.

"Fuck," Gavin breathes as sympathy swallows his gaze. His eyes dart to the side, like he's afraid Perkins will hear and catch on, even from dozens of paces away. The man shifts from where he kneels on the ground. "Shit. Do you - do you want me to .. pass anything along to them? Any last words or-?"

"Gavin!" Perkins roars off to the side. "What the hell're you doing over there? Hurry it up!"

Gavin's response is quick as he looks over his shoulder, the movement brief

"Just going through the last rites!" he calls.

Laughter rises up from the men, "Never took you to be the religious type," Perkins sneers, but not a voice rises in protest to challenge Gavin's excuse.

"No last words," Connor murmurs. Gavin's hand at his shoulder gently curls.

"Can I at least let them know that you've..?"

Connor closes his eyes to blink away a tear that rolls down his cheek to land in the wet sand beneath. "He knows," he says, and opens his eyes.

"He-?" Gavin takes a moment to piece something together. "He... /knows/?"

Connor makes no attempt to expand on his answer.

Gavin breathes out another curse, the sound shaky. "Fuck," he says.

"Can you-" Connor swallows down against a ball lodged in his throat. "Can you turn me towards the sea? I want-" his voice hitches on a sob. "I want the ocean to be the last thing I see."

He does, the man's movements uncertain as he shifts Connor, who can't help but hiss and moan at the slightest movement.

But Connor does as he asks, and soon the injured scientist is facing his lagoon. He can see the rocks that line the edges, the bit of jungle and cliff faces at the side before that all gives way to open sea. It sparkles just as blue and as beautiful as the first day he saw it.

He sees the rock Hank likes to sit on. Looks across the way to the smoother expanse of stone where the merking proposed to them, where they joined together in body and soul. Connor imagines he can still hear and feel the ghost of touch and sound in his ears, on his arms if he goes back to the memory, that maybe it'll take him back to it.

But there isn't a sign of any mermaids, let alone his Bonded.

Just him, Gavin, and the cold, sudden feeling of a knife pressed to his throat.

"Keep still, I'll make it as clean as I can," Gavin says, soft and mournful in his ear.

Connor makes the slightest movement in the form of a nod, the bob of his throat when he swallows causing the knife to rise and fall with the movement.

A hushed breath of air escapes from Gavin, and then there's a brush against Connor's ear. A well wish, followed by an order.

Connor takes a deep and rising breath. Watches the waves crash on shore.

\--

The knife slices quick and cold across his throat.


	9. Transformed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get the kleenex

Far across the sea, Hank feels the connection between him and Connor sever.

The disconnect is enough to make him stutter, and his hand immediately flies to his chest where it curls. The fins at his neck flare as he forces himself to take deep gulps of water so he can get enough air. He swallows down the ball that lodges itself in his throat, threatening to crawl up into his eyes and burst.

He forces himself back to the task at hand, and doesn't let himself think of what the disconnect could mean.

It could be something as easy as Connor removing himself from access to the ocean. Maybe to find somewhere safe to go away from the men who were threatening him.

Or else, there's always the chance he could- that he's ...

The thought alone is enough for Hank to choke on a sob, and he continues his journey back to the lagoon. He uses every modicum of his energy and magic to push him back home. Bends the currents of the sea to his will. Calls to the waves and cries to the winds for them to push him faster and farther than he ever has. Prays that it's enough.

Knows that Connor's chances dwindle by moment.

It takes hours, and it drains Hank of everything he has. He calls out for Connor periodically, and runs his thumb over the soft rainbow-colored ring that binds him to his husband. To his Bonded. He tries to hope, but the answering silence speaks volumes to the merking.

"Please, please, please," Hank repeats to himself the closer he gets to the lagoon, to the warm waters he's so familiar with. "Please be okay, please, gods, please-"

He makes it in record time - Hank has never traveled so far in so little time. But he's never been quite so desperate to return as he is now.

What could have happened to Connor? His beloved gave no indication as to what had attacked him, only that Hank should stay away and that it could kill him.

But Hank doesn't care. Not a bit. Not when his husband is in danger. Not when he could feel Connor's aching pain as if it were his own.

Hank breeches the coral reef and enters the shallows of the island, the one he's come to know so well. He zips past the beach where he first truly met Connor, his energy renewed at the prospect of ensuring the safety of his love.

He slips into the calmer waters of the lagoon. The sun setting low over the ocean turns the waters an ominous blue, almost black, and the sky is pale and cloudless.

It's twilight, and it's harder to see in the dim light as Hank breeches the surface of the water.

"Connor!" he cries. "Answer me, please!"

No response. Hank swims along the surface, his dread a rock that turns heavier in his gut as he nears the beach.

Even from a distance, Hank can see that Connor's camp is absolutely destroyed. The tent is in flayed pieces, nothing more than a propped-up piece of fabric. All along the sandy shore, papers and other materials scatter in the wind. Objects float in the surf, some taken out to the ocean from the current.

What frightens Hank the most is the absolute lack of sound.

Connor always makes some kind of noise. He has a habit of always making some kind of noise - indications that he's alive and doing something. Cooking food over a fire, sharpening survival tools, scribbling and sketching in his journal.. even humming when he's working.

But now, not even the jungle birds deep in the trees cry out. The only sound Hank hears is the ripple of the waves around his ears and on the sand, and the whispering of the wind that brushes through the trees.

And it terrifies Hank.

The quiet is almost.. reverent.

Mournful.

Like the whole island is holding vigil for a terrible loss.

The loss of a Bonded, the husband to a King.

Hank feels the sob before it comes out, and he cries out once more, helpless. "Connor! Please!"

Then over the bobbing of the waves, he sees a flash of color. Stark white fabric against the pale sand.

Vibrant red that soaks into the beach and drains into the water.

And a mop of beautiful amber hair.

Dread slams into Hank, sends him reeling. His mind and heart burst into fragments, and dizzy with fear, Hank careens as fast as he can to the person laid out on shore like an offering.

"CONNOR!"

He tries to deny it's him, that it's just some /other/ human that looks like his husband, but the pulsing ache in the center of his chest isn't wrong. Is never wrong.

Hank sobs as he gets to the beach, the waves only carrying him so far.

"Connor, angel, no!" he pleas, shaking as he drags himself onto the sand.

The water is shallow; the tips of the waves only go to Connor's calves. Much longer, and the tide might have pulled his body into the ocean.

Hank's breath hitches and chokes, fins flaring with despair as he crawls his body up Connors where he can see his face.

And it is Connor. Broken and battered and bruised beneath Hank's trembling hands. His eyes are closed, his whole face swollen and red and patchy. Blood trails from a broken nose, a split lip, and scrapes along his face.

"Angel, my angel," Hank cries, his touch feather-soft down Connor's cheek. "Please, no, gods, please, don't take him away from me."

Hank can hardly bear to look, but he follows with his eyes the source of the blood that goes to Connor's neck, and it's there where he sees the cut. The straight line that goes right across Connor's throat.

There's so much blood.

How much is too much for humans?

His hands shake, tears going down his face as he rests the flat of his palm to Connor's chest. And when he leans forward, he rests his lips against Connor's so they're hardly touching.

Hank waits.

He steadies the frantic pounding of his heart. Forces himself to hold in his breath. Closes his eyes to focus every bit of attention on his beloved underneath him.

Warm air touches his lips, and his hand on Connor's chest rises.

Connor is alive.

But the breath is shaky, and so very weak. Connor might be alive, but he's still so close to the edge.

Hank gasps on an overwhelmed sob as relief washes through him. He nearly collapses over Connor, weak with overwhelming joy as he presses warm kisses to his husband's face.

"I've got you, baby, I've got you. Hang in there, angel. Please, Bonded, Stay with me," he begs, his voice cracking. "I'll take care of you. I'll make you better, okay?"

Hank reigns himself in as best he can, tries to return himself to a problem-solving state of mind.

He opens his palm at Connor's chest, curls it, and focuses. Wishes he knew more about humans and how they worked. Didn't have a clue how much of their biology was similar to his own.

Deep inside himself, Hank focuses, accesses the well of power within him. It's weaker than it usually is. Drained from his journey back.

Hank hopes, prays it will be enough to bring his love back from the brink.

And then he stops, halted before he can touch the power hidden deep in him.

Because there's something pulsing beneath his hand on Connor's chest.

Hank's brows furrow. He's familiar enough with the rhythm of Connor's heart to know the pulse doesn't originate there. It's something else. Something.. far deeper.

Hank turns his sense from himself, and he shifts it over to the frail and weakening body of his Bonded.

He's hardly delved into what he's sensing when he's knocked back by what can only be described as magic, powerful and raw, hidden deep in Connor.

"What-?" Hank stammers, eyes widening as his magic probes carefully at what he feels in Connor. He's /never/ felt this from his husband before. He definitely would have sensed something like this, especially from one he is Bonded to.

No, whatever magic Connor accessed was found between now and when Hank saw him last.

And whatever it is, it's far more powerful than what even Hank has.

Hank is never even sure of himself when it comes to describing magic. Whatever Connor has, it's powerful. It's.. pink, it's searing blue like the ocean and the sky, a brighter yellow than the sun.. It's deep magenta like the love Hank feels for him. It's real and true and self-sacrificing.

It feels like a promise.

Realization dawns on Hank, and he gasps, emotion breaking over his features again as he leans forward to rest his face at Connor's collarbone. His breath hitches on another sob.

"I love you. I love you so much, Connor," he says. Wipes a blood-stained hand at his eyes, doesn't care if it gets all over his face. He sniffs, and leans down to kiss his love's cheek. There's barely a trace of warmth present, but it's there. "You're much more than I could ever deserve," he says, his words a quiet murmur. He kisses the corner of Connor's blood-stained mouth.

"You never stop protecting me, even now." Tears fall from Hank's chin and drip to the corner of Connor's lips. "My angel," he croons, closing his eyes. "My Bonded, my prince." Hank lets the magic in him to reach out and embrace the magic deep in Connor. "My husband," he breathes.

Hank bends down, kissing Connor full on the mouth, and lets his magic tangle with what he found in Connor.

It's an explosion of color, beautiful and stronger than anything Hank has ever experienced. Love. Truth. Devotion.

The promise.

Hank tastes it on Connor's lips.

It's warm, spreads from Hank's chest and in to Connor's. He takes hold of the magic, molds it into something malleable and soft. Grasps what he finds in Connor and urges it to spread through the body of his Bonded.

Beneath him, Connor takes a sharp and sudden breath of air.

\--

The first thing Connor is aware of is how warm he is.

But it's not an uncomfortable warm, not like when it's the hottest time of the day and everything is sticky and unbearable.

But warm like the embrace of his husband on a cool tropical night. Like a warm fire at his back. A tender kiss to his cheek.

The second thing he's aware of is what he hears.

Someone.. -Hank-! - sobbing above him, the sound quiet and withdrawn. But they're not complete sobs. They're softer than that, stifling.

"Connor, baby?" Hank asks above him. His voice trembles. Connor aches to steady it. "You comin' back to me?"

There's a hand, strong and present at Connor's face, cupping it. "Come on, baby," the rough voice of his husband pleads. "I'm here, I've got ya."

Connor's mind works to catch up to what he's processing. But he finds his voice, and it cracks as he manages to start opening his eyes. "H-Hank?" he asks. He squints against the pale blue of the twilight sky above them, but focuses first and foremost at the captivating blue of his husband's eyes.

Love and relief burst in equal measure in his chest. "What're you -" he coughs, gasping for breath. "What are you doing here? I told you - I told you to- You shouldn't be here. Perkins, he's the one who-"

"It's okay," Hank soothes, face wet with tears, and he thumbs at Connor's eye, presumably to brush away his own tear. "It's okay. The humans were all gone by the time I got here. We're safe."

'Safe' does not feel like a real concept, but Connor trusts Hank. He sighs, and closes his head, thanking everything above that Hank made it here, and that he's safe from Perkins.

His breathing is harsh, and he tries to prop himself up on his elbows. "We- we need to get you out of here," he says, even as Hank uses a steady hand to ease Connor's body back onto the sand. "We don't know when he could be back. You need to get out of here. I'll be able to take care of myself, I-"

"/You/ need to settle down for five fucking minutes," Hank says, but his words are warm and affectionate, lacking any real barb. "They're not going to come back. We have plenty of time."

Fear and a desire to protect continues to flare through Connor, and he grasps Hank's hand that steadies itself at his chest. "Wh- But-"

Hank silences him effectively with a kiss, and Connor melts instantaneously. Leans into the touch as he lets himself calm down. Grounds his mind and body on the lips pressing and brushing at his own, focuses on the hand pressing to his sternum and to the other that tangles in his hair.

"Besides," Hank says when they part, and there's something playful and amused in his eyes as he leans back, smiling gently. "I don't think you'd get very far if you tried to run off, now."

Connor hums in distant agreement, and snorts out a huff of amusement at Hank's bit of humor. "I don't hurt anymore, though," Connor says absently. He wiggles a little in place on the sand. Twitches his fingers but has difficulty moving his legs, chalks it up to Hank's weight settled over him. "Did you use your magic to heal me?"

For the first time in a long while, Hank actually looks somewhat hesitant. Darts his ocean-blue eyes to one side and bites the inside of one cheek. "Yeah, well, uh. I mean- All of your injuries are gone now, but- But it wasn't just.. I don't know how to-"

Connor goes to reach a hand to hold one side of Hank's face. His own expression creases with worry. "Hank, what are you- I've never seen you like this before."

Hank's nervous eyes glance back to Connor, clearly anxious. But the king breathes in deep, and lets out a shaky puff of air. "Don't want to upset you, is all," he says. "I- I kind of took things into my own hands when I-" He chokes on the words, and looks away again, like he's ashamed.

Connor huffs out a mild breath of irritation, and when he starts to prop himself back onto his elbows, Hank doesn't try to stop him.

"You saved my /life/, husband. Why on earth would I- OH MY GOD!"

Connor's arms flail as he reels, trying to make an effort to separate himself from what he's perceiving.

Because an hour ago, when he was lying on the beach at the brink of death, he had all four limbs intact.

But now..?

Now his legs are gone.

Replacing them, an elegant and beautiful tail, scaled and glimmering in the dying light of the sun. Heavy and muscular, soft and the colors of coral. Warm pink, yellow, smaller bits of flickering orange and bright blue. Membranous fins that flex and flare from Connor startling. Pale and somewhat transparent.

The colors of the scales match the ring that adorns his husband's finger.

"Hank, oh /fuck,/" Connor breathes, his hands clamped over his mouth. When he flexes his own fingers, he feels and membrane between the appendages. Webbed hands just like Hank's. "Oh /fuck/ oh /damn/, shit," He trails his hands to his neck, feels the fleshy flaps that are his gills. He tries in vain to flatten them, and instead settles for clamping his hands over them. "Hank oh my GOD-!"

"I'm sorry!" his husband interjects. Connor glances at him in time to see the desperation across his husband's face, accompanied by remorse. "I know I didn't get a chance to ask you, but, it was the only way I could think of to save you, I just- I didn't want you to die like that in my arms."

It takes a handful of absolutely baffled moments for Connor to string Hank's words together to form a cohesive thought.

Hank thinks he's-?

"Hank, sweetheart. Love of my life, my king- I'm not upset with you."

The merking lifts his head, hopeful and disbelieving. "You- what-?"

More tears rain down Connor's face, and he makes a feeble attempt to curl his new tail closer. He tries to get comfortable and sit up as best he can. It's difficult - but he manages to find his balance as Hank reaches out a strong arm to level Connor.

It ends with them both leaning in to each other somewhat awkwardly, but still intimate and comfortable. Hank stares in breathless awe of Connor, voice hitching with relief. "You're not?" he repeats, tears forming in his eyes. "I changed you into an entirely new /being/ and you're not-"

Connor takes his own turn to silence his husband with a kiss. Hank goes boneless at the contact, melting towards Connor and going to cup a hand at his lover's cheek. Drawing each other close, a hum building.

"This is the best thing you ever could have given me," Connor murmurs when their lips finally part.

He places kisses at Hank's cheeks, brushing his tears away, and he folds his hands with Hank's, marveling at the similarities they share. His skin has turned somewhat slicker, somewhat scalier, designed to more effectively live in the ocean waters. Thin membranes stretch at the base of his fingers, but there's enough room for his ring to continue to fit where it has.

"I get to be with you now, Hank. You can take me home with you."

No amount of Connor's kisses seem to be able to stave off the quiet sobs that break from Hank, and he settles to leaning close and touching his forehead to Connor's. "But, all of your life, back at home. Your /family./"

Connor feels a slight needle of regret at the thought of his family. His steadfast but supportive and distant mother. His triplets. Strong and reserved Niles.. sharp and cunning Silas.

"I'll miss them," Connor admits with a soft murmur, and fixes his hand over Hank's. He turns his head to look at the wreckage that is his camp. It's ransacked from Perkins' raid. His journal is surely gone, as is anything he had of material value. The only thing he values of his human life is the watch he kept at his wrist. A parting gift from his mother before he began his expedition. Golden and engraved.

But even that, too, was snatched away by Perkins.

"There's nothing left for me here," he tells Hank, and gives a sad smile in turn to his Bonded. He touches his forehead back to Hank's, and hopes that all the affection and love deep in his chest will come across to him. "All I want is you."

Hank lets out a shaky breath, but there's a smile at the edge of his mouth. Content and relieved and /joyously/ happy. His hand curls over Connor's, their rings matching next to each other. Hank's larger and more muscled tail lifts and drapes itself over Connor's, who trembles in awe at the new sensation.

"How was this - you said it wouldn't be possible," Connor says to Hank, non-accusatory but certainly curious. "You said something even more powerful than you would have to do it. So how-"

Connor's question cuts off when he sees a fresh round of tears welling down Hank's eyes, and he immediately leans forward to soothe him. His hand goes to cup Hank's face, and the King weeps beneath his gentle touch. He feels a new wave of guilt at causing Hank to cry even more, and when so many tears have already been shed today.. But then Hank says something that gives Connor pause.

"You kept your promise," his husband says on a tender sob, the smile contrasting with the redness and wetness of his face as he looks up to Connor tearfully.

Connor blinks, and frowns. "I- What do you mean."

"Your promise," Hank says, like that should be enough to remind him. He places his hand over Connor's, keeping it in place at his cheek.

"The first promise you made to me," Hank reminds Connor, turning his head to press a kiss to his husband's palm. His eyes shine with love. "Back at that first day.. you swore to me that you would never tell anyone of your own kind about the existence of me and my people."

It was so long ago, Connor can hardly recall, but he remembers the smell of the salt on the air, the warmth of being near Hank for the first time, the anticipation of being able to learn more about the merpeople. A gasp escapes him as it comes trickling back like water from a leaking bottle.

"You- so what about it?"

A chuff of laughter exhales from Hank, and his mouth curls in a smile. "Connor... you were able to /give your life/ to protect us. You kept your promise." He brands a searing kiss into Connor's palm, takes his hand so he can kiss the back of it. "You made a royal promise, Connor, bound in my magic. Willing to keep us safe at the cost of your own life." When Hank touches his lips to Connor's knuckles, at his ring, love blooms in his chest. "That's the most powerful kind of magic, Connor. And it was enough to save you. . . made you worthy to be turned from one species to another."

Connor's breath catches as the pieces fall into place. "But- I didn't do it because I thought I would get to turn into-"

"Of /course/ not, love," Hank soothes. "It wasn't an action born of selfishness. What you offered was good and True." Hank bows his head to press another kiss to Connor's hand, and the merking's eyelashes tickle at his skin. "Worthy of a king."

Connor gasps, his own tears beginning to form behind his eyes. "Hank-" he croaks, and wipes at his face. "I just- I can't-"

"Can't what, angel?" Hank prompts, voice soft and tender.

Now Connor is the one who's starting to weep, holding his right hand to his mouth. "I can't believe how lucky I am.. to be here with you." He sniffs. "To be your Bonded, your husband.."

Hank laughs and pulls him forward. When they meet for another heart-felt kiss, it's soft. It's warm, a reunion between two souls aching desperately for each other. One of Hank's hands slide down Connor's side, settling at his waist, the junction where his human flesh turns into smooth and dappled scales.

Connor moans into the kiss, arching into Hank's touch, opening his mouth for his husband's tongue to slip past. Touches the roof of his mouth, and Hank's hand at Connor's waist tightens.

A gasp escapes from Connor, and in doing so, causes the gills at his neck to flare. He parts from the kiss, lungs quickly aching. He uses his hands to flatten them back down, laughing under his breath. "Sorry, Hank," he says, embarrassed. "I-I'm not totally sure how to.. stop them."

Hank snorts, lets his head fall onto Connor's shoulder while their tails twine together. Places a reverent kiss to the bare skin beneath his lips. "Nothing to apologize for, husband," he croons, a bit of a laugh in his voice. "Just another thing I'll have to teach you, hm?"

Hank purses his lip in a kiss, and Connor trembles. "Well, it's good that you're an excellent then, isn't it?"

Hank chuckles, and starts to back away, but keeps a hand wrapped firm over Connor's. He draws him back toward the surf. "Are you ready to go?" he asks, and lowers his voice.

Connor blinks, and looks over his shoulder one more time at what remains of his life, his /human/ life.

He breathes out shakily, then nods, breaks away to wipe at his teary eyes. A watery smile cracks the sorrowful expression at his face, and he lets Hank pull him into the ocean, to his new home. "Yeah," he says, and sighs with a content smile. "I'm ready."

Hank smiles in turn, and Connor goes warm all over. "Nothing you want to say goodbye to before we go?"

Connor looks reassuringly to his love, and the water from the sea begins to swallow his tail, ready to take him whole. "No," he says with a slight shake of his head. "I'm ready

to begin my new life."

The water is at Hank's shoulders from where he crouches in the seawater, and his only response is a pleased and loving grin.

"Then come, my prince."

Living, breathing water engulfs Connor, calling to take him home.

And he goes.


	10. Wait for Me

"How close are we?" the man snaps a bit coolly, hands held crisply behind his back. The sea salt wind tosses and tugs at his hair, pulling the one loose strand that refuses to stay in place over his eyes. He tucks it away, irritated.

The prisoner, hands restrained behind his back, keeps his head bowed, but looks up quick enough to take a glance at the area. "Not far," he says, voice scratched and quiet, and lowers his gaze again.

The man growls low in his throat, and turns sharply to look back at the sea, the churning blue, white-capped waves. Once sparkling and glimmering from the sun, but now all he can see is how dark the water is, how unforgiving and deep.

"Niles," a heavy and smooth voice calls over his shoulder, beckoning him. "Calm yourself. You know we're not likely to find him ali-" the voice chokes on the word, and he turns to his mother, eyebrows pinching in sympathy. Her shoulders hunch forward, a subdued sob hitching from her voice as she claps a hand over her mouth.

She's always so strong, their tower of support, now nearly brought to her knees from grief.

Niles approaches his mother, closing the distance between them to place a well-meaning hand on her shoulder, offering what little comfort he can.

"He better be alive," his triplet hisses venomously from the side. Niles glances over to Silas, sitting callously on the rail of the ship. Just one rogue wave that rocks the ship could send him careening into the blue depths below, but Silas was never one to air on the side of caution. He's far too stubborn, living seemingly out of spite when it comes to taking risks.

Silas uses his sleek and sharp knife to clean his nails, the deft movements his way of showing off to the prisoners how comfortable he is with the weapon. The mirror image to their triplet Connor, his shark-like smile almost doesn't look natural when Connor has always been the softest of the three. "If he's not alive and well when we get to that beach, there's going to be hell to pay for these back-stabbers."

From the corner of his eye, Niles sees the prisoner cringe away, his shoulders sulking, though Niles can't tell if it's from guilt, regret, or just the dread of the possible threat of death.

No matter.

He's just a damned traitor. Whatever happens to him doesn't matter, as long as his brother is okay.

Their mother steels herself, straightens her shoulders. "Easy, Silas," she says, attempting to soothe the wildest of her three boys. "You'll get a chance to feed your hunger for revenge."

Silas nods, his smile faltering as he looks back to the sea. His grip on his knife turns his knuckles white. "He can't be gone," Niles hears his brother say, voice broken. "He just can't."

It's Silas' equivalent of having a meltdown, this small break in his voice.

A familiar aching fills Niles' chest, and he goes to his brother, placing a hand at his brother's shoulder. "We'll find him," he says, trying to steel his voice the same way their mother does. Silas looks at him hopelessly, eyes shining with tears, and Niles' voice cracks against his will. "We will," he says, though even he doesn't sound convinced.

It's amazing, Niles thinks sometimes, when he thinks of the similarities between himself, his brother, and their mother. All so quick to hide their feelings. Prideful, unmoved. Like a stone jutting from the shore of a tumultuous beach, withstanding wave after wave and refusing to move.

And it works for them. They all know they love each other, and show it in their own ways. Small glints of approval in Amanda's eyes, a light touch on the elbow from Niles. A conspiratorial grin from Silas.

But Connor was cut from a completely different cloth.

If the rest of the Sterns were proud stones, turned dark and jutting out from the restless waves, then Connor was the ocean itself.

Emotional, calm one moment then swirling with feeling in the next. Wore his heart on his sleeve. Exposed and vulnerable. Strong in his own way that his brothers never could be, able to chip and smooth away their sharper edges. He added to their humanity, and was by far the most emotionally intelligent of their family.

If that was gone, if /Connor/ was gone-

Niles chokes on a hitching breath, and tears rise up to his eyelids. He blinks them away, wipes at the corner of his eyes.

He turns back to the prisoner, cold blue eyes piercing the pathetic excuse for a man. "Tell me again how it happened."

The prisoner cringes, and keeps his head bowed. "C'mon, I already-" he swallows. "Don't make me tell it again," he pleads lowly. "I've told you everything. I promise."

Silas sneers, "What good are the words of a traitor?" He throws himself off the railing, approaching the cowering man with his fist clenched hard at the hilt of his knife. "And a crazy one at that. If your captain didn't confirm your story you'd be dead where you kneel." He pulls back his leg to give the man a well-placed kick into his leg. To his credit, the prisoner fights back a groan, and Niles can't help but flinch in unwarranted sympathy.

"Brother, he's been beaten enough," Niles finds himself speaking on the man's behalf.

The most malicious of their trio gives him a spiteful look. "If this dirtbag wanted sympathy, he shouldn't have slit the throat of our most merciful brother!" He emphasizes his declaration with another kick to the man, who gasps and moans in pain. Niles pushes down the blip of sympathy that drops through him like drips of water in an empty bucket.

"Mermaids. Talk of a lunatic, more like," Silas spits. He turns back to the railing, and props himself back on the railing.

"I'm telling the truth! What reason would I have to lie?" the prisoner, who claims to go by the name of Gavin, snaps. Then all at once the fight drains out of him. "And I- I told you that I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to-"

Any and all sympathy immediately flees from Niles. His hands clench behind his back. Gavin's head bows. "I didn't want to kill him," he murmurs. "I. . .You didn't see him. He was- he was so scared, and hurt, and I-"

"Please stop talking," Niles says, and turns his back, shoulders clenched, tight.

"I wanted to do it in a way that would be quick. But, Perkins wouldn't-"

"/Please/," Niles grits out, teeth clenched tight.

To his credit, Gavin stops, goes quiet, except for one low and uttered, "Sorry. I didn't mean to- sorry."

"Oh you'll /be/ sorry!" Silas snarls.

Niles sighs, and stares out at the ocean. An endless expanse of blue. Dark ocean on bright sky. There's not a cloud to mar it, and Niles finds it doesn't fit the dour grief in his chest.

"Leave him alone, Silas."

"This /lowlife, piece of SHIT-"

Niles whirls to face his brother, "Abusing the man who was willing to even come forward and tell us what happened to Connor in the first place isn't going to bring him back, Silas!"

Quiet falls between them, and a fresh round of tears building in Silas' eyes causes everything in Niles to clench tight. "I-" his triplet starts, trying to find his words. "I- We don't even know if he's /dead/. You can't-"

Guilt swoops through Niles, and he goes to his brother, not even hesitating to embrace him in a strong and assured hug. It's harder when they're the spitting image of each other, hard to imagine that one of them could be gone forever. Like a whole piece of them is missing.

"We would have /felt/ it, wouldn't we?" Silas asks in a dejected sob. "Wouldn't we have /known/ if he was gone? If he was really-?"

"I don't know," Niles murmurs, and places a comforting hand atop his sibling's head.

The rest of the sail to the island passes by quietly. Gavin says no more, and the brothers don't try to prompt anything from him. What is there to say, really? To the man who claims to have killed your brother as an act of mercy.

"He says it was an act of mercy," Niles said to Amanda when Gavin had first approached them on the Mainland with baggy eyes and sallow cheeks, destroyed by apparent guilt for what had happened on the jungle island.

"That Perkins would have killed him if he didn't do as ordered."

Doesn't make it any less difficult to feel bad for him. The Stern family isn't typically one for charitable emotions like sympathy and understanding; Connor was really the one that carried the brunt of that between them.

"Gods, Connor," Niles whispers as they finally near the island, pointed out by Gavin. "What has your foolish, compassionate heart got you into this time?"

\--

Amanda, Silas, and Niles go onto the island with their own men, and they take both prisoners with them. Both Gavin /and/ Perkins, who Silas is more than happy to retrieve from the brig.

Perkins has lost all his former glory. Every bit of dignity he had was stripped from him. His face is black and blue from getting beaten in turn, each blow delivered from a vengeful Silas.

"So you can feel what our brother felt when you attacked him like the coward you are!" the triplet had hissed when they initially arrested Perkins.

They anchored along the beach, near a pristine lagoon, the waters crystal clear in the water. It was just a short walk along the soft and pale sands before the entered it. Dark gray cliffs lined the opposite end of the lagoon, and a strip of beach circled the lagoon, flanked by dark green and vibrant jungles.

And at the beach of the lagoon.. . a destroyed camp.

Niles' heart tugged at the sight of it, and he stiffened, his whole body drawn tight like a bowstring.

What was left of Connor was absolutely decimated. The tent in tatters and his material possessions scattered from hell to breakfast. Along the beach, in the jungle, littering the water of the lagoon..

"I don't see any blood," Silas said at Niles' side, suspicion evident in his voice.

Amanda shook her head. "It's been days since it happened. The tide would have washed away any signs of.." She cuts off, unable to finish the sentence. Niles touches her hand with his own.

She steels herself, and turns unforgiving eyes to Perkins and Gavin. Gavin averts from meeting her gaze, while Perkins sneers at her, lacking any shame.

"Let's see what we can recover from.. from what he left behind," she says, resigned but strong as ever. Niles admires her so much. "We knew there was hardly a chance he would be here."

"Not even a body left behind," Niles murmurs, unable to deny that he feels heartbroken from what they've found.. or lack of finding.

"The tide must have taken him out. Or some animal. Fuck." Silas grits from the side. Niles feels his triplet's rage. "We don't even have a body we can take back to-"

Silas turns like a leaf in the wind, his voice hitching on a sob. "I'm going to look through his tent, or at least what's left of it."

Niles watches his brother go, and finds that he can't bear to join. Instead, he goes to stand at the water's edge, and watch the waves rising and falling.

There's something hypnotic about it just watching the steady crest and break of the ocean. The rhythmic roar as the water hits the shore, the trickling, the animals in the jungle behind.

It's a beautiful spot. The lagoon waters are crystal clear and the brightest blue, like aquamarine. He can see how it would be easy for his daydreaming brother to get lost and fall in love with a place as beautiful as this.

Steps, soft on the sand, near Niles from behind. He doesn't turn, but he hears a cough and an attempt of someone trying to clear their throat.

He casts a sly glance over to see Gavin scuffing the ground at his feet. "Listen. I'm really sorry about- about your brother. I really didn't want to- I- I wanted to at least give him-"

"I understand," Niles says, cutting the man's rambling off before it can get out of hand. "I understand that you did it under duress of threat to your own life, and that you wanted to try to do it as humanely as possible. And I'm- grateful- for that, at least.." Niles swallows, and tries to put his words together. "But .. . you were still following Perkins' lead, and my brother is gone. And we don't even have his body to bury in the family cemetery." Niles withdraws a watch from his pocket. Gold, mildly scratched from being used, and just on the side of too tight for his wider wrist. Connor's watch. They'd nabbed it off of Perkins after capturing him, found it around his own disgusting wrist.

"All we have left of him are his material possessions," Niles murmurs.

The man called Gavin is quiet, his silence thoughtful.

"I didn't know him in any capacity, but, uh, he was real admirable. At the end. Wanted the last thing he looked at to be the ocean."

Niles huffs out an amused laugh, subdued and quiet and wet. "Yeah, that sounds like him alright." He wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, and sniffs. "Did- Did he have any last words he wanted to pass on, or-?"

Gavin shakes his head, expression solemn. "No. I offered to pass something along to his husband, but he said he already knew."

Niles goes cold. Frowns. Wonders if he heard Gavin right. He looks to the man oddly, searching for anything in his expression that might reveal the purpose of such a strange lie. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"His. .. husband? At least I'm pretty sure he said..." Gavin looks lost in thought for a moment, then nods in assurance. "Yeah. He said his husband was already aware of what was going on. I'm.. honestly kind of surprised he hasn't tried to make contact with you guys, yet, if he-"

"Connor isn't married," Niles interrupts, voice hard and certain. "Hasn't so much as /courted/ anyone. The closest thing he ever had to a relationship was his books - gods know it was the only thing he would stay up late for."

Gavin looks at Niles, just as confused but certain.

"Well he was definitely married when I.. He had a ring! And when I asked him if he was married he said yes."

The rising argument in Niles' and Gavin's argument attracts the attention of the others nearby. The surf touches the tips of Niles' boots, and he shifts away, confused and unsure of how to process this new information. When did Connor get married? And to /whom?/ And why wouldn't he tell his family about him? Surely he would have trusted them enough to at least tell them of his engagement. Why would he-

"Did he say anything else about this supposed spouse?" Niles asks, fingers absently playing with the gold watch in his hands. "Name, occupation, anything like that?"

Gavin gives Niles another one of those odd looks, as if /he/ were the one asking weird questions when /Gavin/ is the one insinuating that his shut-in brother somehow managed to get married before the rest of them.

"Uh, not really." Gavin says, and all of Niles' hopes immediately falter and lie flat. His shoulders lose some of their excited tension.

"Nothing?" he presses.

Gavin shakes his head. "Only mentioned in passing that he existed in the first place. Didn't say anything else. He was just-" Gavin closes his eyes, and has to turn away. "He clearly loved him, though. I'm surprised you guys didn't know that he /was/ married."

Niles shakes his head, absently perplexed. "It's odd for him; that much is certain. We're not really the family that keeps secrets from each other."

Gavin doesn't reply to that, and Niles lets the information of what he heard swirl around in his head.

/Married?/ How could Connor have done something so serious without telling his family? And beyond that /when/ would he have gotten married? His ring finger was bare when he set sail for the island, and hadn't made any trips back to the Mainland for supplies, yet. So how in the hell-?

"Nothing," Silas snarls from behind. Niles is jerked from his thoughts as he turns, watching as his triplet toes off his boots and goes stomping into the ocean so that the water brushes at his ankles. "There's not a goddamn thing worth saving or salvaging from- just. Fuck."

Without another word, he falls backward into the water, letting his arms splay out while his feet keep him anchored in the surf.

Niles stares down at his triplet, thoughtful and aching. He glances down at his own shoes before toeing them off, and going to approach his sibling, leaving Gavin at the shoreline.

"We knew it would be a long shot when we set sail," he tries to amend logically. "The chance of - of finding him-"

"I know, Niles," Silas bites back, though it lacks any true venom towards his brother. He doesn't take offense. Silas presses his palms to his eyes. The water pushing at him sends his hair up into a halo about his head.

"I just.. couldn't help but hope. I didn't want to.. /don't/ want to think that-y'know?"

Niles sighs softly, the breath exhaling from his nose as he looks down to his brother. "I know, I couldn't either," he admits softly. "But we have t-"

"Uhh are you guys fuckin' seein this?"

The alarm in Gavin's voice causes Niles to startle, and he turns his body to the sailor, still bound by his wrists. His stormy grey eyes stare out at the water, open and wide in shock.

Niles frowns, then follows Gavin's gaze to the churning water.

A gasp of air is stolen from his lungs.

"Si-Silas," he uncharacteristically stammers to his brother. "I-are you seeing what I'm-"

His triplet heaves himself up out of the water. "What?" he groans, fighting a wave that nearly knocks him onto his back again.

Niles can't bear to move his gaze from what's on the edge of the lagoon. "Tell - tell me you're seeing the same thing I am."

Silas groans but gets himself to his feet. Seawater comes off in rivulets, and he goes to his brother's side, scanning the water. "See what? All I see is this damned blue oce-" He cuts off, having seen what Nilas does. "Oh shit."

Niles grasps onto his brother's hand, knuckles going white from how tight he holds on. "You-you see-?"

"I-I think so."

Bobbing out in the waves, near the far reaches of the lagoon, a person watches from the moving water.

It's hard to see from this distance, but Niles is sure he can see a blip of short brown hair, a tint of pale skin. Nothing more than that.

But-

"Do you really think it's possible he-?" Silas asks, voice thick.

Niles blinks, swallows, and stares. "I'm not sure. I- They said his wounds were too- maybe-"

He's about to say that it could be his.. their brother's body out in the water.

But the figure so far off is /definitely/ looking at them. Like he's judging the situation, or waiting.

God that just /has/ to be Connor.

"Connor!" Silas is the first to call. He waves his arms above his head, and even jumps up and down in the surf to be sure whatever is out there can actually see them. "CONNOR! It's us!"

Niles isn't sure he can tell from here, but it looks like the person smiles, turns his head for one second over his shoulder, then looks back to the shore.

Grinning. Definitely grinning.

And then the person reaches their own hand up above the waves, and disappears with a flash of pink and orange.

What-? Where did he-?

Before Niles can even form any kind of coherent sentence, the person appears again above the waves, but closer.

Terrible, joyous emotion overcomes Niles, and he chokes on his breath. Tears well in his eyes, relief pounding in each beat of his heart.

Because it /is/ Connor. He can see clearly now, recognizes the smile, the curl of brown hair, even the glint of his amber eyes.

But it's even more than that.

Because he's /alive/. Whole and breathing and giving that shit-eating grin usually worn by their more mischievous triplet.

"Niles?" he calls, and Niles thinks it may be the most beautiful sound in the world to hear that voice again, especially when he was so sure he might never hear it. "Silas?" Connor calls, still treading the waves about fifty feet away. "What are you doing here?"

"OH MY GOD GET OVER HERE YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" Silas screams, and he goes running into the waves.

The sound was enough to startle Niles, and he draws his eyes away, a smile forcing its way up his mouth to watch as his brother dives in.

He hears Connor's laugh, so bright and warm, and then another splash. When their missing triplet comes back above the water, only about 20 feet away, Niles only distantly wonders how he was able to get through so much ocean in just the span of a couple moments. The waves surely weren't /that/ strong, were they?

"No way," he hears Gavin stammer, the words thick in his throat. "It's not- how-"

"GET YOUR BUTT OVER HERE!" Silas yells into the waves, neck-deep in the water.

But Niles can see the caution in his brother's eyes from here as he regards the rest of the party. "What's Perkins doing here?" he calls, wary.

"We're not with him," Niles assures, drawing his brother's gaze to him. "He's under our custody for your.. attempted murder."

Connor tilts his head to one side. "And Gavin? Why is he tied up?"

"'To be decided'!" Gavin chimes in sarcastically. "As in- deciding which way they're going to end me."

Niles isn't sure how to describe it- maybe it's because they're triplets and they just know each other that well, or maybe there's something else at play here.

Because Connor lingers carefully, but it doesn't seem like he's lingering for /him./ Even though he got beat within an inch of his own death by the fault of this man, he seems to be waiting for some other reason.

It hits Niles.

Connor's being protective.

But not himself. This is the same way he's protective towards his siblings or someone he's close to.

What is-

Niles shakes his questions from his head. This is his brother they're talking about. If he thinks it's something worth protecting, then it is.

"Take Perkins back to the ship," Niles orders, understanding without having to share a word with his brother on what he wants. "Keep guard of him. We'll stay here."

The men back on shore hesitate. "What about the other-?" in reference to Gavin.

Before Niles can order them to take him with them as well, Connor's voice cuts him off. "Gavin saved my life. He can stay."

That stills Niles, but he nods, questions buzzing in his head.

Connor waits until the rest of the men and Perkins are gone. The man fights the whole way, sneering and snapping at Connor, threatening him. Snarls that he'll break his neck, that he'll get him, hunt him to the very ends of the earth-

Niles keeps his eyes on Connor the whole time.

Sees the slight glimmer of his skin (it could just be the water), the level of grace he seems to hold, comfortable in the rolling waves-

And something shining from beneath.

When Perkins is gone, Silas finally loses his patience.

"Now will you PLEASE, for the LOVE of GOD-!"

Connor laughs, teeth white and.. somewhat off. Niles can't place his finger on it.

But before he can dwell on it, Connor surprises him. He always does. The oldest triplet dives back into the water, followed by a quick flash of color again. Bright coral pink, a flicker of yellow and soft orange - the colors of a sunset, scaly, with a thin and membranous fin at the end.

No way-

Connor launches himself from the water's surface into the arms of Silas, his arms wrapping around his brother's neck as he laughs. Fins along his side and protruding from his back, bright transparent pink in color, flare and shift in the open air.

Silas holds tight onto Connor, laughing breathlessly as he falls back into shallower waters. "Holy SHIT, Connie!" But even as Silas holds fast onto Connor, Niles can hear the slight hitch of his voice as he holds him close. "I can't believe you're here - what - what the /fuck/ is going on?"

From here, Niles can see the tears in Connor's eyes. He wipes them away with the heel of his palm, and the tallest of the siblings can see a ring adorning his brother's finger. Gavin's words ring in the back of his head, about Connor being married.

Any reservations Niles holds towards Connor disappear, mysterious creature or not. This is his /brother/. And he's /married/.

Niles goes in after his triplets, the water going to his sternum where he can more easily see the flickering tail beneath the water. And it's not his imagination. The mermaid tail surely does belong to his oldest triplet.

But Niles doesn't flinch as he goes to throw and arm around Connor and bring him close. "Don't scare us like that ever again," he orders, his voice shaking only in the slightest. His brother's skin feels somewhat slicker under his hands than what a normal human's skin would, and perhaps rougher? More scaly. Though up close there doesn't appear to be much of a difference.

Connor smiles, and they can see the sharper glint of his teeth. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to. Honest." "Well can you at least tell us what the fuck is going on?" Silas asks, gesturing to the less-than-human part of Connor. "And why the- did you piss of a fish genie or something?"

Connor ducks his head, something secretive and warm in the smile. "No, Silas. Quite the opposite, actually," and he plays with the ring on his finger, turning it.

"I suppose congratulations are in order," Niles says.

Expressive as ever, Connor turns a bit pink, and curls his hand close to his chest. "Thank you. I'm sorry you guys couldn't be there for it, but when it happened it was all quite... sudden."

Niles attempts to get in a word of comfort to ease any guilt his brother might feel, but Silas is quicker and direct in a far different manner. "You guys fucked, huh?"

Connor snorts, and his large tail lashes out of the water to splash a clear and heavy arc of water over the snarky brother. "Enough of that out of you," he snaps playfully.

"Here, boys," a voice calls steadily back from shore.

All three pairs of eyes turn to the beach where Amanda has walked in knee-deep, eyes shining with an unreadable emotion

"Let me see my son," she says, steady and controlled, a hint of something at the edge of her voice.

Obedient, Silas and Niles part, allowing room for Connor as he stares up at their mother. The merman moves carefully in the water, going forward with a careful flip of his tail.

He stops about 2 feet from her - the shallow water only allowing him to go so far. "Connor," she says, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Amanda," he acknowledges, craning his neck to stare up at her.

She kneels in the rolling surf carefully, the movement slow as lowers herself. "Let me see you," she says.

Niles can see the hesitation in his brother's eyes, but he complies, maneuvering his tail so it's ahead of him and he's sitting somewhat awkwardly in the water.

The other two siblings can't resist with their own curiosity, and they near when Connor lifts his magnificent tail up and out of the water.

Shimmering electric pink. Hints and shades of orange, yellow, and white like coral in a reef. Fins that shift and twist, and when Niles looks back at Connor, he sees slits that are gills open in what he can only assume is some kind of nervous tick for merfolk.

Amanda turns a studious eye to the tail arcing from the water, and glances to Connor for verification. He nods slightly, and she brushes her hand carefully along the smooth and sparkling scales. "Beautiful," she murmurs.

She stretches his fins at his side as far as they can go (though not in a painful way) and trails her fingertips along the shifting colors of his tail. She lingers at the larger fin that makes up his tail, studying the patterns of the appendage and testing its weight in her hands

Her hands and her eyes linger at different parts of Connor, settling for a few extra moments at her gills -which she touches oh so gently, then at the corner of his mouth. Without needing to say a word, Connor opens, and she examines the new sharpness of his teeth, all while quizzing him with short questions.

"Diet?"

"Mostly fish. Clams, muscles and the like. Some underwater plant life."

"Raw?"

"Of course." Connor hesitates, then admits. "It tastes better than I thought it would."

She pursues wit more questions pertaining to his new life. Sleep, activity level, culture, language, everything. And Connor just sits and answers quietly, and patiently.

In the back of his mind, Niles can't help but think that Connor probably got his scientific streak from their mother.

He and Silas simply wait for them to finish.

From there Amanda shoots out a question none of them were expecting.

"Are you happy?"

Connor seems taken aback for a moment, stunned, but his expression just absolutely /melts/, eyes suddenly lost in some far-off memory. He's in absolute bliss.

"Very," he tells her truthfully.

The edges at Amanda's eyes and mouth soften and gentle considerably. She touches the bend of Connor's tail where his knee might be, and she actually smiles in that small way of hers. "Good," she says, and says somewhat sternly. "Now. Explain."

So Connor does.

He explains how it all began when he first saw the mermaids, struck a deal with them, and eventually became one of them by being willing to give his own life to protect them.

It's so fantastical, it doesn't seem possible to Niles. And he wouldn't believe a word of it, if he weren't looking right at the evidence. His brother turned into a merman, before his very eyes.

"So.. you married one of them?" Niles asks, careful not to presume as he nods towards Connor's left hand.

"Married!" Amanda gasps, turns stunned eyes to Connor. Covers her mouth with her hand and holds out her own for him.

Connor grins, the smile bashful as he ducks his head and holds out his left hand. She grasps ahold of it, her mouth falling open as she sighs, admiring the unconventional ring. Niles and Silas lean forward to study it. "Oh-! Connor! It's /beautiful/!" She turns his hand to and fro to examine the swirls of blue and subtle bits of green. The white and small bubbles deep in the glass-like material.

"He pulled it from the ocean itself," Connor says, loving and demure at the mention of his husband. Niles can't help but smile a bit at the tone of Connor's voice. "One for me as well as for him, so they match. His is colored differently - it actually has a lot of the same colors as my tail." He lifts the appendage above the water for a brief moment, then lowers it again.

Niles feels a tug of affection deep in his chest.

His brother is so /deep/ in love, it's obvious.

"I'm happy for you, Connor," Niles says, a slight smile forming at his lips. "It sounds like he makes you very happy.”  
Connor's smile must be infectious, and he manages to grin even wider. "He does," he says. "I love him more than I thought I could ever love anyone, especially like this."

"Well where is he?" Silas asks. The middle triplet nudges the eldest, his smile mirroring Connor's. "I wanna meet the fish who decided he could put up with you. Now don't tell me, did he propose to /you/ or did you have to beg him for his hand?"

"You'll be the one begging, but it'll be for your life if you don't shut your mouth and stop putting down my husband," a new voice growls from behind.

Niles startles, the rough growl causing him to jump, whereas Silas yelps as all present turn their eyes to the newcomer.

Connor is at ease; he laughs, throws his head back and reaches with his left hand for whatever lays in the water. "Hank!" he chides. "Be nice. Silas is just teasing."

Niles peers around his brother's shoulder to see, and as soon as he does, a chill goes up his spine and to the base of his neck, though he isn't sure why.

Another merman, one he can only assume is his brother's husband, rises from the water. He's lying flat with his hands under him, allowing his head and chest to lift from the rolling water. Seawater trails from his long gray hair and beard in rivulets. Eyes as blue and as clear as the ocean pierce through each of the new humans, studying each and every one of them. Expression stony.

For some reason, Niles wants to bow his head, or look away.

The merman turns his head to Connor, and his gaze immediately softens when their brother reaches out to touch the soft angle of the merman's jaw and even hints at a light smile. "I'll be nice, beloved, when they start to do the same."

Connor snickers, and gently guides the merman closer for a quick but affectionate kiss. Behind the merman, a strong and muscular blue tail rises from the water, curls pleasingly. Sparkling and bright blue, the merman grins into the kiss.

"Mother," Connor says when he breaks from the kiss, and nods to his family. "Brothers. This is Hank, my husband. And Hank, these are my brothers Niles and Silas, and my mother, Amanda."

"Pleasure to meet you," the merman known as Hank rumbles with a slight tilt of his head.

"And you as well," Niles returns respectfully, while Silas and Amanda murmur "likewise" from the side.

Hank looks over Niles' shoulder to the man standing back on the beach, and his eyes harden. He draws himself up further, shoulders squaring. "You!" he barks, the sound sending a kind of ripple through the air that Niles cringes against. "Step forward!"

Niles looks back to Gavin, who tenses at the attention being drawn to him. He shifts awkwardly in place, his feet shuffling, clearly nervous. "I- I'm not sure-"

"Forward!" Hank repeats, voice a bellow as he slaps his magnificent tail against the water. Niles startles from the sound, and looks back to Gavin.

The man steps somewhat tentatively into the water, the waves swallowing his toes as he advances to join the rest of the huddled group. He keeps his eyes trained on his feet, licking his lips and swallowing. When the water is just below his knees, he gets onto his knees, and keeps his head bowed, reverent. Niles thinks of a man walking to his execution.

"Your majesties," Gavin murmurs, voice low, scratched.

Niles raises a brow, mirroring Amanda's. The human family look to Connor for an explanation, who hasn't turned his gaze from his husband. There seems to be some kind of conversation going on between them that the others aren't privy to. Connor makes a low and soft warbling sound in his throat, bubbly and warm. Hank hasn't moved his eyes from the kneeling man, but his expression is cold and withdrawn. He makes another sound back in answer to Connor, but it's lower and more of a growl to Connor's bright warble.

But then Connor reaches to Hank with one hand and lightly touches his husband's shoulder, fixes those wide doe-brown eyes to the merman. Hank finally breaks his steely gaze to fix it at Connor, and he softens.

The large merman turns back to Gavin, and speaks in a low voice, "My husband says you saved his life."

Gavin doesn't lift his head.

Hank lazily raises and drops his tail in the water. "He says you tried to give him a merciful death in protest to what your captain was telling you."

Niles tries to push aside the sympathy he feels rise in him when Gavin's shoulders curl forward protectively. "I did," he says in answer. "I tried to, but, Perkins wouldn't.. I wasn't sure-"

"He did save my life," Connor voices, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "Gavin was ordered by Perkins to slit my throat, but at the last second, he told me to stay still, and that he'd make a cut small enough to bleed but not enough that it would actually kill me."

Niles stills, widens his eyes and looks at Gavin with a new light in his eyes. "Truly?" he echoes, and embarrassment prickles through his muscles. "He tried to tell us the same thing when he came forward to us, but we didn't believe him." He looks down, contemplative.

"Of course not!" Silas snips from the side, cruel brown eyes narrowed. "We had no reason to trust him."

"Still," Niles says, and looks at Gavin, and twinges uncomfortably when he sees the bruises that mar his tanned skin. "He tried to tell us and we didn't believe him. He didn't deserve the punishment we gave him."

It's enough of an apology for the tepid man to lift his head. Niles does a slight bow of his head. "Our sincerest apologies, Gavin."

"We'll be sure you're properly compensated for our wrongdoing," Amanda adds sincerely.

Gavin offers a flickering half-smile, and there's suddenly light in his grey eyes. "Thank you," he says, relieved as his shoulders lose their tension. "I- thank you."

Something in Niles' chest warms, and he nods, then goes to the man's hands still bound behind his wrist without saying a word. Gavin adjusts himself accordingly, sighing in relief when the binds cut. He rubs at the raw skin, opening and clenching his hands for some relief from the tension. "I'm just glad you're alive, your majesties. And that it all worked out in the end. I- he didn't deserve what was happening to him."

Connor hums in approval, and does a slight nod of his head. "It was a close call, though. I would have died, given enough time. There was too much internal damage from Perkins' men."

Niles sees something solemn pass over Hank's eyes, and he reaches a large hand over to pull Connor in close at the waist. Presses his forehead to the side of Connor's head. There's an ache in Niles' chest - he knows that surely, the merman felt that just as strong in almost losing Connor.

"You did the right thing, Gavin," Hank rumbles. Gavin immediately ducks his head. There's a bit of a smile at the end of the merman's mouth, and his words lighten. "I give you my thanks, and my blessing. In return for saving my prince, you shall have nothing to fear from the sea in your travels, so long as you continue on an honorable path."

A still passes over the assembled humans, a tingling in the air like bells, or a veil shimmering in the light, all directed toward Gavin.

In a moment it's passed, but the world seems a little brighter now.

Gavin looks up, blinking owlishly, but nods his head in thanks and licks his chapped lips. "Thank you, your Majesty."

Hank chuckles, and draws Connor closer, kissing his husband's throat where the gills shift at the attention. "You saved the life of my Bonded. Hank is just fine."

Gavin nods a little jerkily, but there's a tentative smile at one corner of his mouth.

Niles ignores the warmth blooming in his chest.

"So you're a king?" Silas decides to voice out what the others seem to be wondering. Or maybe that's just their triplet-sense kicking in.

Hank nods, warm, "I am."

"Well shiii-iiittt, Connie. You just HAD to show the rest of us up, didn't you?" Silas asks with that shit-eating grin.

"Typical of the oldest to do that to the rest of us; how are we supposed to match up, huh?" He winks, "I don't suppose you've got any MORE sexy bear mermen that are interested in courting a human down there, do ya?"

Connor snorts, flips the end of his tail so water splashes

Silas, drenching him in another round of water. "Sorry, no," he says with a grin. "And I don't think they'd be interested in assholes, anyway."

"Well damn," Silas says, but he's smiling.

They spend a couple more hours like that, talking and catching up and swearing to visit.

Connor tells them about the migration patterns of Hank and his school of merfolk, that they come back every spring to spend the entirety of summer in the warm waters.

"Hank and I were thinking of going to the breeding waters this season," Connor tells them, "But I'm still not really adjusted to-" he gestures with one hand to his newly changed form. "He doesn't think I'd be strong enough to make the journey. Too many things I have to learn. How to breathe properly, pressurize and adjust to different depths in the water. We'll go next year though, when I've gained my strength."

"Will you be okay staying here, though? Both of you?" Niles asks, unable to help but worry a little over his oldest triplet. "The waters are still safe for you two and there's enough food and-"

"We'll be fine, Niles," Connor says, easing his brother with an affirming webbed hand placed over Niles'. "Hank has stayed here during the winter before. He knows what to expect, so we'll be fine. And it gives us the time for me to adjust."

Niles nods, "It must be weird," he says, unsure of what else to say about it. Because really, /weird/ is probably the best word for it.

Connor wiggles his shoulders, and the dorsal fin low along his back opens and curls back down with the movement. "It is," he says. "And I'll miss the things I used to do before. I can't really come see you guys, anymore. Can't do all the things I used to enjoy doing.." His eyes are lost for a moment, but then he smiles tenderly to Niles, and squeezes his hand over his. "But there's so much more I've gained. A husband, the chance to live an entirely new life and explore places no human would ever get the chance to seek out." 

He turns his head, and looks over to the others. Hank is talking to Amanda, the woman still kneeling in the water, somehow managing to maintain her image of grace. They're smiling, Hank's a wide beam and hers subdued, but she might as well be grinning. Then further along the beach, Silas is talking animatedly to Gavin while he skips stones, the forgiven man looking like he just wants to be left alone.

"I'll still see you guys," Connor says, and looks to Niles warmly, his half-smile sincere. "And we may bump into you sometime when you're on the water. Hank and I have a sense to these things."

Niles nods, swallows down the tears threatening to fall over his eyes again. He can't believe the day turned out this way. This morning he woke up thinking his oldest brother was dead, and now, he's going to go to sleep knowing that his brother turned into a merman and married a king.

"It's surreal," he says to Connor, a flicker of a smile starting up his mouth. "With how this all turned out. I'll miss you, Connie." He reaches out to touch Connor's face, his fingertips just lightly brushing the merprince's cheeks. His brother leans into the touch, smile as warm as the feeling in Niles' chest. "But I can see how happy you are, how happy he makes you." He fully cups Connor's face, and gives his cheek a playful pinch. "So I'm just as happy for you."

Connor grins, amber eyes watery with tears. "Thanks, Ni," he says, quiet. "That means a lot to me, especially coming from you."

And this his smile turns mischievous, and he nods his head in the direction of the others. "Now you might want to go get Silas before he sweeps Gavin off his feet."

Niles scoffs, blusters as he playfully pushes Connor's head to the side, hoping his blush won't betray him while his brother laughs. "Pbffttbt. Shut up! How did you-"

"A merman /senses/ these things," Connor says, an air of mystery in his voice as he smiles.

"You're full of bullshit, you know that, right?" Niles asks.

Connor snickers, and ducks his head. "Okay, maybe I just noticed how you kept checking him out. But seriously, though. We know how Silas likes to play with his food before he eats it. Even more so when it's someone one of us is interested in."

There's a sharp spark in Connor's eyes, "So you might not want to linger for too long."

Both look back to the two men at the far end of the shore. Silas has pretended that he doesn't know how to skip stones, watching as Gavin shows him how with the patience of a saint. But over his shoulder, Silas grins at them like the cat got the canary and even has the audacity to /wink/ at Niles and poke a bit of his tongue out.

Niles is surprised by the emotion that rises up in his chest and goes to his throat. Jealousy? He clenches his hands at his side, and starts to stand up. "Yeah, shit. No, you're right. I gotta go save him." But before he can stand to his feet, he gets back on his knees to fully embrace Connor one more time. His brother's arms wrap strong and steady, tight against his back. It all feels like home.

Love rises from deep in him. "Love you, Con. I'm really happy for you. Stay safe out there, okay?"

"Okay," his brother says, and holds him tight. Hot tears touch Niles' neck. "Love you, too, Ni. I'll miss you."

"Miss you, too." Gives his brother one more strong squeeze of his arms, and places an affectionate kiss to his brother's cheek. He stands up, wipes at his eyes with the palm of his hand. Connor lowers back into the water, and wipes away his own tears. "I'll see you next Christmas though, right?"

Connor laughs, the sound wet, and grins. "Oh yeah, Hank and I'll bring some salmon for the dinner."

Niles laughs, and stands back up. Reaches his hand down. "Love you, bro."

Connor reaches up, grinning, and clasps their arms together. "Love you too, Ni. Stay safe out there, okay?" The mischief returns. "And go get him."

His face turns bright red. "You're not helping."

Connor scoffs, and lowers himself further into the ocean. "Psh! Says you!"

They leave not long after that. Hank swears them to secrecy (Niles can /swear/ he hears something shimmer in the air around them when they do), and everyone shares another round of heart-felt goodbyes. Hank grants them safe passage home, and Connor gifts them all with small and colorful conch shells.

"If you ever need Hank or I while you're at sea - in trouble or you just want to see us.. use these. We'll find you. It may take some time, but-" and he shrugs, "We'll be there."

A way to contact his brother. Niles couldn't ask for a better gift. He holds the blue and soft purple shell to his chest, and knows he'll keep it with him forever.

The group of humans finally depart when the merking and his merprince wave farewell one more time, then dive into the water. The moonlight catches the sparkling blue and pink of their tails before they disappear, leaving the humans finally alone.

Somehow, Niles already misses him.


	11. Farewell, and Hello

Niles is exhausted by the time they get back onto the ship and cast off. He slumps against the railing, watching as the island starts to slide away.

A heavy voice sighs alongside him, and he looks over with mild interest at the sight of Gavin, mirroring his posture as he watches the island.

Neither say anything for a few moments, and Niles tries to steady the quick beating of his heart. It must be loud enough that the sailor can hear him, surely.

"You guys seem pretty close," Gavin says, the first to brave some kind of conversation between them. When Niles looks at him from one corner of his eye, Gavin amends, "You and your brothers, I mean."

Niles' mouth twitches, perhaps a subconscious act of approval. "Yeah," he says, and looks back to the green island and rolling black waters, like he might spy another flash of Connor in the water. "They're my best friends, really."

Gavin nods, and scratches absently at the wooden railing. "Must be nice. I've got a brother, a twin, actually. But we never could really figure out how to get along right. Seeing how close you guys are, though," he shrugs a little off-handedly. "Makes me want to try."

Niles' warms at that, but he keeps his expression stoic.

"I'm glad," is all he settles on saying.

Quiet lapses between them. Niles strains to form another bridge of conversation. "So, you headed for home, next time we land?"

Gavin grins at that, the smile forming half-way up his face, something knowing in his eyes. "Actually," he says, scratching lightly at the stubble on the underside of his jaw. "Your mom offered me a job to work for her here on this ship. Keep me on the straight-and-narrow and all that, seeing as my former employer is currently prison-bound." Gavin looks at Niles, grinning. "So I guess that means you're going to have to keep putting up for me a little while longer."

Niles sighs long and slow, like it's some kind of horrid inconvenience. "A travesty for all of us, to be sure," he says, but there's a smile at the edge of his lips. "I guess we can get used to you give it some time."

Gavin smiles, and suddenly looks bashful. His fingers tap restlessly along the railing. "Yeah, maybe you can get used to me later, at dinner?"

Niles' heart skips a beat. His face pales, turning him pearly white in the night. "Uh-" he stammers, for once, at a loss for words. He somehow manages to find them, "Yeah, I-I'd like that. Gavin."

The man grins, so visibly relieved he looks like he might melt. But then something catches his eye behind Niles, and he points, his smile widening. "Oh- Niles, look!"

He turns, just in time to see the matching flash of blue and pink out in the open expanse of water. He gasps, presses himself to the rail and watches, mesmerized as he sees his brother and his husband leap high out of the water before diving back down. There's a quick flash of white that has to be a smile, and an arm waving in farewell.

Niles presses a hand to his face, warm and fighting back the most foolish smile. "God, they're such dorks," he says. Pauses for a beat. "I'm happy for them."

Gavin hums in approval. "Yeah, they seem pretty good for each other."

"Some people are like that," Niles says. He turns his gaze from the ocean, and looks back to Gavin. "Sometimes you just know."

Niles' words catch up to Gavin. His eyes widen, and he looks over to the youngest Stern sibling just in time for Niles to lean in and place a soft kiss at the stubble on Gavin's cheek.

The man goes absolutely /still/ beneath him, and distantly, Niles can't help but wonder what it might be like to make this man /squirm/. "That was for saving my brother on that beach," he says, voice a soft whisper like the waves beating against the ship. A pleased grin starts to go up his face. "We'll see what else you can earn later, after dinner."

Gavin finally breathes, voice catching and eyes growing wide as he looks at Niles. His stormy eyes are silver in the light of the moon, and Niles' heart throbs. "Not sure how I'll be able to top that - if saving your brother is enough for a kiss."

Niles grins, knowing his smile is just as sinful as Silas' when he's up to no good. "Oh, the kiss was just /part/ of the thank you. You'll get the rest later.. if you play your cards right, Mr. Gavin Reed."

The youngest Stern could /preen/ at the admirable way Gavin's face reddens from the implications of that. Gavin swallows. "I guess I can accept that. Though you're not as smart as I give you credit for if you think you can win a game of cards against a sailor."

Niles smiles.

"I've got a mermaid prince for a brother. I think I'll take my chances."

Gavin's eyes light up; he smiles. Behind him, Niles sees one more flash of pink, and hears the distant sound of chimes.

He pulls Gavin in for one more kiss, the sailor's mouth warm against his own.

-fin-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently writing an extra scene to this that features Hank and Connor getting together during the mating season - a lot of my followers on Twitter were asking for that so that's my current project. When I'm done with that, I'll post it here, too. Thank you everyone for reading! Please don't hesitate to tell me what you thought!

**Author's Note:**

> You can find my Twitter here: https://twitter.com/MLioncat


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